


Desiccated and Drowning

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamort, Drained magic, F/M, Set in 1970, Slightly fluffier than my normal Bellamort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: 1970. A curse from Dumbledore in battle drains Voldemort of his magic. Robbed of his powers, weakened and powerless, he hides in his home with the one Death Eater who tagged along with him from the fateful battle - Bellatrix Black. With enough time and enough wine, the crippled Voldemort starts to see significant value in the worshipful, reverent Bellatrix... and she's certainly willing. Bellamort WIP.





	1. Chapter 1

**August 1970**

"Albus Dumbledore!" Voldemort sneered the name with derision as he stalked around a tree. To his right, he could see Dolohov and Yaxley tangled in duels with Dumbledore's lackeys. Bellatrix Black, his newest and youngest Death Eater, was standing over an unmoving form that seemed most assuredly dead.

Suddenly Dumbledore emerged from behind a tree, and he held his wand up with a steady hand.

"Perhaps this will stop you for some time, Tom," Dumbledore said gently, and those words made Voldemort hesitate for just long enough that he was socked with the blinding white spell from Dumbledore's wand.

"No! My Lord!" he heard Bellatrix screaming, and then he felt her hands wrap around his bicep.

Suddenly everything was hot and painful, and then everything went very quiet indeed.

It was as though water was draining slowly from Voldemort's body. That was the sensation.  _Drip, drip, drip._  Something was leaching out of him; was it blood? He blinked his eyes open and frowned when he saw that he was on the floor in the entryway of his house in Cornwall. He could hear the waves that were outside and down the cliff.

"My Lord?" asked a soft voice from beside him. His eyes fluttered shut again against his will. "Are you all right, My Lord?"

"Bellatrix," he whispered, feeling the tip of her wand touch his chest. She murmured a few spells to wake him, and he felt her magic thrum through him like music. It was almost odd, the way her spells coursed through his empty veins.

"My Lord," she murmured again, "you're white as a sheet, Master. Oh, how can I help you? I wonder if there are potions stores here."

"My wand," he mumbled, and it was in his hand in a flash. He brought it to his own throat, feeling like he was moving through molasses, and he incanted, " _Reddo Vis._ "

Nothing.

Nothing happened. It was as though there was no magic within him, though that was a ludicrous thought. Voldemort frowned and instructed Bellatrix,

"You try that spell.  _Reddo Vis_."

She obeyed him, and then he was gasping for air and sitting up straight. He scowled, rising slowly to his feet. He aimed his wand quickly at a Chinese vase in the main corridor, and he said firmly,

" _Confringo!_ "

His Blasting Curse didn't take hold, or even materialise from his wand. Voldemort's mouth fell open as he walked around his house, trying to Transfigure objects, change the colour of draperies, Conjure water… anything. But nothing worked. He threw his wand to the ground in the parlour and aimed his hand at his piano.

" _CONFRINGO!_ "

Nothing.

"My Lord?" asked Bellatrix in a shaking voice, and when he whirled on her, she shrank away a little. He watched her gulp and ask carefully,

"Shall I send an owl to the others? Letting them know their master is fine?"

She was more intelligent than he'd given her credit for being, Voldemort realised. He'd recognised an unhinged sort of ruthlessness within her, but this was different. He could see in her coal black eyes that she understood what had happened. Albus Dumbledore's curse had robbed the great Lord Voldemort of his power. It was almost certainly temporary; most wicked curses of this nature were short-lived but irreversible. This was terribly Dark magic for a man like Dumbledore to be using, though, and Voldemort had no way of knowing how long he'd be without his magic.

Bellatrix was right, of course. Sending an owl to Malfoy Manor informing the Death Eaters that Voldemort would return soon enough would reassure them. It would also allow him to hide here in Cornwall whilst the curse wore off.

"You may not leave," he told Bellatrix suddenly, and she just nodded. She understood this, too. Without memory alteration - a risky endeavour, and one Voldemort couldn't perform now, anyway - Bellatrix was the only person besides Dumbledore who knew that Lord Voldemort currently possessed no magical abilities. The fear on her face told Voldemort that she understood exactly what the ramifications of such a thing might be for her.

Voldemort rushed into his library and pulled open the drawer of the desk. He extracted a quill and some parchment. He dipped the quill into the ink and wrote,

_Malfoy,_

_I suffered a few wounds during the battle in Wales. Nothing egregious, but I shall be at my home resting for the time being. Send word of any casualties. Update me daily on goings-on. No battles or attacks until I give the word or return to the Manor._

_LV_

"Take this. Go send the owl," Voldemort nodded crisply, passing the parchment to Bellatrix. "Come back downstairs as soon as you've sent it off; the owl is in a cage on the table in the upstairs corridor."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix nodded, trotting out of the library and up the stairs. Voldemort watched her go, thinking to himself that she was awfully loyal and very competent. He tried to peer into her mind with Legilimency, for he could usually do it all the way across a building from someone.

Nothing.

"Damn you, Dumbledore," he muttered. He knew the spell Dumbledore must have used.  _Dessicco Magicus_ , or the Magic-Draining Curse, was incredibly difficult to perform properly. Dumbledore had managed to send Voldemort through space, as well, which was annoying in its own right. Bellatrix seemed to have only caught the second spell, since she'd grabbed her master's arm in an attempt to save him. Her magic seemed unaltered.

Voldemort had performed a Magic-Draining Curse on a fellow student at Hogwarts, but he'd gone undetected, and the girl had wound up in St. Mungo's for three weeks until her powers came back. Three weeks. Hopefully that was all this would be. Voldemort could stay away from his minions for three weeks, but not for three months. As far as he knew, there was no counter-curse, no potion to reverse the effects. One simply had to 'wait it out.'

"My Lord." Bellatrix came bounding breathlessly into the library, dipping into a reverential curtsy. "How may I serve you now?"

"Now we wait, Bellatrix," Voldemort said tightly. He gestured out toward the expansive decking outside the house and suggested, "Why don't you go enjoy the view of the sea?"

She frowned. "My Lord, is there truly nothing I can do to help you?"

Voldemort shifted on his feet and shrugged a little. "You've helped plenty. You've demonstrated your worth. Your value. Your loyalty."

Bellatrix looked a little awestruck at the praise, and she blinked quickly as she murmured, "Master, I shall always do anything I can to preserve and enhance your authority. I feel… awful… that I didn't… that I couldn't…"

"You tried to push me out of way of the spell," Voldemort smirked. He drummed his fingers on his desk. "It was my own fault; I let my guard down for a half second. Do you like wine?"

Bellatrix's thick brows furrowed. "Wine, My Lord?"

"Yes. I find right now, devoid of power as I am and utterly bereft of anything to do, that I should like to drink some wine. Do you like wine?"

Bellatrix's full lips parted. She was rather pretty, Voldemort thought. Perhaps he could make use of that fact while they were here waiting indefinitely. She'd be willing. Of that he was certain.

"I like wine," she nodded, and he gestured for her to follow him from the library. He stalked quickly toward the kitchen, his robes billowing around him. He had to rifle around in a drawer for a while to find a manual corkscrew. He could have asked Bellatrix to open the bottle of wine with magic, but he wasn't going to spend weeks begging her for spells. So he twisted the corkscrew into the top of a bottle of red elf-made wine, and then he pulled the cork out with a little pop. He pulled down two large wine glasses from the rack to the left of his sink, and as he poured the wine, he heard Bellatrix say cautiously,

"This is your home. Dumbledore sent us to your home, My Lord?"

"Yes, this is my home." Voldemort handed her a glass of wine and said sternly, "We're in Cornwall. You'll forgive me if I don't give you information beyond that."

"Of course, Master. Thank you." She accepted the wine and stared down into it, her cheeks going a little pink as she asked, "And I'm to stay… until it wears off?"

"Yes." Voldemort sipped at his own delectably dry wine and dragged the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip. "I've a spare room you can use. Don't worry."

"I wasn't worried, My Lord." Her voice was just a little whisper then, and she raised her eyes to study him. She'd never been this close to him alone. She was thinking about that fact, and Voldemort didn't need Legilimency to tell. She thought he was handsome; her eyes gave that away. But she worshipped him beyond ordinary corporeal attraction. He was her master, her everything.

She would be willing, a little voice in the back of Voldemort's mind told him, though he wasn't sure why he was thinking about being physical with the girl in the first place. He almost never craved witches; his priorities were elsewhere. For some reason, today of all days, when his body felt empty and weak, she seemed awfully pretty.

"Would you care to go look at sea?" he asked, his voice hard as iron. He sipped again at his wine, and Bellatrix nodded, a tiny smile crossing her lips.

"The sea. Yes, My Lord," she said, following him from the kitchen, down the corridor and out into the blazing sun.

* * *

"So." Lord Voldemort swirled the tip of his long finger around the rim of his wine glass. With the sea behind him, he seemed almost like a statue, pale and handsome with features that appeared to be carved of stone. He raised his dark eyes to Bellatrix and mused, "Bellatrix Black. Tell me… why are you a Death Eater?"

"Why, My Lord?" Bellatrix repeated. She sipped from her wine and shrugged self-consciously. "I was at school and was always hearing about you. My parents spoke of you. And when I got to meet you in person at Malfoy Manor, I thought to myself… this. This is my life now. My life, my death. He must be everything - he and his cause. And so I suppose that's why I'm a Death Eater, Master. It never seemed as though I had much choice."

Voldemort looked a little surprised for some reason. He took an unusually large sip of his wine and then set the glass down on the small table on the deck. He stared out at the turquoise sea and just let the sound of the waves wash over them both for a moment.

"And do you enjoy it?" he asked at last. "Being a Death Eater. You've only had two months' real experience with it. What do you think?"

"I live for it, My Lord," Bellatrix answered automatically. "And I'd for it. For you."

She probably sounded like a fool, but she couldn't care. She watched Voldemort's throat bob a little, and he let out a long sigh.

"It is a strange sensation," he admitted. "For as long as I can remember, I have been flush with magical power. It is temporary, I know, but still I find it acutely uncomfortable. I feel as though I do not recognise the body in which I dwell."

"I can't imagine, My Lord," Bellatrix murmured. She frowned then, having a feeble idea, and she pulled her wand from its holster. She held it out to him, and he stared at the handle for a moment as she offered, "Perhaps if you try mine."

"Worth a shot, I suppose," Voldemort said. He took Bellatrix's wand and aimed it up at the sky, where a gull was soaring. He tracked the gull with the wand's tip for a moment and then cried, " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

For anyone else, Bellatrix supposed, that would have been an odd choice of spell for testing out someone else's wand. It seemed fitting for him. But it didn't matter; nothing happened. The gull flew on, and Voldemort huffed a little as he handed Bellatrix's wand back to her.

"There is no counter-curse, nor potion, so far as I know," he informed her. "Only time will make the curse wear off. I am stuck like this, at Dumbledore's behest, for who knows how long."

"I'm sure your magic will replenish more quickly than others' would do, My Lord," Bellatrix said assuredly. Lord Voldemort quirked up half his mouth and turned his eyes to her. He scanned her up and down, looking a little hungry all of a sudden.

"Would you like to entertain me?" he asked, and Bellatrix was so taken aback that she didn't answer for a moment.

"Entertain you, Master? I mean to say… I would like to do whatever pleases you."

"Hmm. Whatever pleases me. I find myself in rather dire need of pleasure just now." He stepped closer to her, reaching to tuck her wild curls behind her ear and surprising her. Bellatrix felt a flush of heat on her skin where he'd touched her, and she shivered despite the warm air.

"My Lord?" she whispered, feeling quite uncertain now of what he wanted. Perhaps he thought that he could leach magic from her by being physical. Or perhaps he was a man who had a young woman in his house and wanted her flesh. It didn't matter. She was willing either way.

"I do not often take witches," Voldemort said, tipping his head and dragging his fingertips down Bellatrix's cheek and jaw. "I do not care for the distraction. But here, now, I need a distraction, Bella."

_Bella_. He'd called her  _Bella_. Her breath quickened between her lips, and she watched as the look of hunger in Voldemort's eyes strengthened. His gaze moved to her tight jumper, to her breasts and her waist and hips. He studied her face again and told her,

"I do not like the sensation of being devoid of magic. I should like to be distracted. So, Miss Black… loyal Death Eater. Combat veteran at the age of eighteen. My servant and my ally… will you distract me, I wonder?"

Bellatrix felt a surge of confidence then, and she reached for Voldemort's fingers on her cheek. She moved them down to her waist and told him,

"My Lord, you are my master, my commander, my teacher and general. You own me; I am yours. If you feel empty and my body can relieve it, then I beg you… have of me whatever you wish."

"Bellatrix." Voldemort lowered his eyes and pulled his hand away slowly. His cheeks went a little red, and he scoffed, "Quite a little speech."

Bellatrix felt embarrassed then, staring out at the water and watching the white foam fold over the blue water. But then she heard Lord Voldemort note,

"You thought he was trying to kill me. Dumbledore. You grabbed at me… were you trying to sacrifice yourself?"

"I was trying to do anything I could to preserve my master." Bellatrix kept her eyes locked on the sea, though they seared a little. Beside her, she could see Voldemort pull out his wand and murmur a few spells at the little tree growing beside the deck. Nothing happened. He tucked his wand away and sighed, and he told her,

"You are brave in battle and loyal to me, and I find you attractive."

Bellatrix just nodded. "Thank you, Master."

"I am going to kiss you now," he said tightly, "because I desire it, and you will give me what I want."

"Of course, My -" Bellatrix turned her face to him, but she was cut off by the way he seized her face in his hands and immediately lowered his lips to hers.

He tasted like elf-made wine and something slightly more spicy. He urged Bellatrix to part her lips, which she did. He dragged his tongue over her bottom lip and then sucked it between his teeth. He was moving smoothly, confidently. He was in charge. Bellatrix's hands went on instinct to his shoulders, and at the sensation of touching him and being kissed, she let out a helpless little moan.

"My Lord," she gasped, when at last he pulled his mouth from hers. He stood up straight and cleared his throat, and he cleaned her saliva from his lip with his thumb.

"Long way until nighttime," he noted, "and we've nothing to kill but time. Do you like wizard's chess?"

"I'm not very good," Bellatrix smiled, "but if you wish to play, My Lord, then we shall play. You'll win."

"Naturally." His smirk was so handsome then, and he turned without another word to walk back into the house. Bellatrix picked up both of their wine glasses and followed him, dizzy from the kiss.

Perhaps, she thought, keeping her lord and master company whilst his magic returned would not be the worst thing in the world.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

"Checkmate. You were right; you're really not very good at this game." Voldemort smirked at Bellatrix as his queen annihilated her king. She watched in horror as her piece's head was lopped off, and Voldemort couldn't help but laugh under his breath. This was their third match, and she'd been trying each time, he knew. Chess just wasn't her game. Fortunately for him, the pieces were enchanted of their own accord, necessitating no magical output from him to play. He sighed as he sipped at his wine and pulled his wand out.

" _Reparo,_ " he muttered, intending on setting the pieces to rights so they could play again. But nothing happened. He was tempted to snap his wand in rage, but instead he managed to calmly tuck it away and clear his throat. "This is more than a little irritating."

"I'm sure it is, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. She pinched her lips then, her pretty lips that he'd dared to kiss, and she asked him, "With all respect, are you quite certain that you'll… that the curse will wear off?"

"I know of no spell that permanently steals magic away," Voldemort shrugged. "And, anyway, Dumbledore specifically said the words, ' _perhaps this will stop you for some time._ ' He didn't say ' _forever._ '"

He'd also used Voldemort's ignominious former name, but he left that bit out for now. He eyed Bellatrix, thinking that after two and a half glasses of wine, she looked prettier than ever. He cleared his throat and said in a firm voice,

"I could just threaten you."

Bellatrix looked a little confused, so Voldemort sipped at his wine slowly and then clarified,

"I could send you away from here with a promise that if you so much as breathed a word of my condition, that I'd kill you myself… with a knife, with rocks, with whatever I could get my hands on. I'd strangle the breath right out of you if you told anybody what's happened to me. I could send you away with that promise."

Bellatrix's eyes went wide, and she set down her own glass of wine on the table that looked out over the sea with a bay window. Her hands shook as she folded them in her lap, and she promised him,

"I'd never tell anyone, Master, for I wish for nothing so much as your success. But if you want to send me away, you must do as you please."

"Such a good little creature you are," Voldemort scoffed, "and yet I've seen you torture and kill with my own eyes. A strange dichotomy within your soul, isn't it?"  
"If you say so, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. She turned her face, letting the last kiss of sunlight bathe her pale skin, and she mused, "Your home is very beautiful. It seems to have been here for a while."

"It seems old," Voldemort corrected her. "It is old. It was a manor house built by Muggles a few centuries ago. Passed down through generations of a very wealthy family as a holiday home on the sea. And then I co-opted it, and the Muggles forgot all about it. They wouldn't see it if they drove by in their automobiles. All they'd see is brambles and bush."

"How very clever, My Lord," Bellatrix said. She kept on staring at the sea, and Voldemort took a moment to study her profile. She had a straight nose and sharp cheekbones, but the roundness of youth was still in her face. She was so very young, he realised. Too young for him to be preying upon like this. Too young for him to consider…

But she was willing, he reminded himself. She'd do anything for him. And she was pretty, and he would be bored, and she couldn't leave.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, and Bellatrix seemed to snap out of a daydream. She smiled a little at him and nodded.

"A little, Master."

"Can you cook?" he asked awkwardly. "I normally do it myself, but… not by hand, you see, and…"

And he had no magic now. Bellatrix gave him a reassuring little grin and said,

"Last term, in Charms, we practised our cooking spells by taking it in turns to make meals for the whole class. I got the highest marks making steaks and potato for everybody. The boys all wanted more."

"I have steaks here," Voldemort informed her. Bellatrix laughed a bit, and the sound made him shudder with very unexpected want. He watched her rise, and he found himself flying to his feet with her. He made a motion to Banish the wizard's chess with wandless magic, but of course nothing happened. Voldemort cursed quietly and picked up the board, setting it on the shelf behind him and feeling like a broken fool.

"In the kitchen, then, My Lord?" he heard Bellatrix ask from behind him, and he just nodded silently. He let her go, listening to her heels click across the tile floors. Voldemort stared at the chess board and wanted nothing more than to exact revenge on Albus Dumbledore. That blustering fool thought he could weaken Lord Voldemort with one little curse? It would wear off, and when it did, Voldemort's wrath would be unstoppable. He'd burn down Hogwarts if that was what it took to have his vengeance.

"How do you like your steak, Master?" asked Bellatrix from the kitchen. Voldemort gulped and called over his shoulder,

"Medium rare… if you please."

He wasn't sure why he added that last bit. She was his slave, after all. He needn't be polite to her. Still, she was unflinchingly brave in battle, and almost overwhelmingly loyal, and very pretty. He'd enjoyed kissing her. Perhaps he should have apologised for doing it, to himself and to her, but he didn't want to apologise. He'd liked the taste of her, the feel of her under his hands. He shut his eyes and had a sudden vision of her pulling her clothes off for him, whispering  _Master_  as she got down onto her knees and…

Voldemort thudded his fist onto the wall and shook his head. This was pure lust driving him, and he never let himself be guided by such a silly feeling as lust.

Still, he wanted her.

Suddenly the house smelled of cooking meat, of butter and garlic, and Voldemort's mouth watered. He turned and walked quickly toward the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to watch the elegant dance Bellatrix was performing.

She had cooked potatoes mashing themselves up in a bowl with butter and roasted garlic. She had steaks on the iron skillet, searing on the second side. She aimed her wand at the steaks and incanted a few charms, then Summoned plates from the cupboards. She started doling out mashed potato and let the steaks rest on the plates, and she Scoured the skillet and bowl with a few flicks of her wand.

Lord Voldemort had never been so envious of another's magic in all his life, and he didn't even like to cook.

Bellatrix Banished the plates out to the dining room table where they'd been playing chess, along with cutlery and napkins.

"More wine, My Lord?" she asked lightly, putting the bowl and skillet away and Scouring the butcher block counters.

"I ought not have any more, probably," he admitted, feeling the distinct buzz in his head, "but… yes. More wine."

He needed it tonight. He needed it because he was empty, because Dumbledore had crippled him, and he was trapped in his house with a beautiful young witch whom he'd already dared to kiss. She carefully poured them each a fresh glass of elf-made wine, and something compelled Voldemort to pull her chair out for her at the table. But it didn't work, for he tried to do it with magic.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered, and Bellatrix stared up at him with wide eyes. He slammed his chair out and huffed down into it, and he growled through clenched teeth, "I can't do anything. I can't… I feel utterly mutilated. Fragmented. This is awful sensation; I don't care for it one bit, and I…"

He was seething, he knew, his hands smashed flat on the table. Bellatrix surprised him then by reaching for the fingers of his right hand. She seemed a little frightened as she laced her fingers through his, and he could practically hear her heart racing as she informed him,

"I have seen your hands produce more magic in the last two months, Master, than nearly everybody produces in their entire lives. You are a frighteningly powerful wizard. Even now. When the curse wears off, you'll be unstoppable, because anger makes us more powerful than ever. Don't you agree, My Lord?"

"Bellatrix…" Voldemort pulled his hand away from hers, feeling confusion rip through him. She recoiled back and murmured,

"I'm very sorry."

"No… you needn't…" He wasn't sure what to tell her then. That she'd said exactly the right thing? That her hand had felt magnificent tangled with his? He sighed and cut into the steak she'd made, and after he chewed and swallowed a bite, he nodded out at the sea. "Steak's good."

"Thank you, Master," she whispered, and they ate the rest of their meal in silence.

After she'd used magic to clean up their dishes and refuse, Voldemort waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. He beckoned for her to follow him, which she did. The house had started to go dark with the setting sun, and Voldemort realised he had no way of lighting the lamps without magic.

"You'll have that blue bedroom there," he informed her tightly. "It's got an en-suite bathroom. In the meantime, come into my room and light the sconces on the wall."

She needed no further explanation; she knew the way this was crippling him. She followed him into his large, black-and-gold bedroom, and she lit the sconces one by one.

"Shall I shut them off for you later, Master?" she asked awkwardly, and Voldemort huffed out a breath.

"I'll sleep with them on," he said, squaring his jaw. Something compelled him then to reach for her, to take her face in his hands, and he noted once more, "I could send you away with a promise to kill you if you spoke of this. But I don't need to do that, do I, Bella?"

"No, My Lord," she whispered, her eyes welling a bit. "You don't need to do that."

"Because you're very loyal to me, aren't you, Bella?" he asked, lowering his face just a little. She nodded, reaching up to cover his hands with hers.

"I live for you. I will die for you someday, I'm sure," she said. "But first, I shall live for you. Master."

"Say it again," he commanded her, for that word meant more just now than it ever had. He lowered his face further, his lips brushing against Bellatrix's as she hummed out,

"Master."

He kissed her then, much harder than he'd done outside. He hardly knew her; she'd only been in his service for a few months now. But somehow it felt like precisely the right thing to kiss her. If he was going to be empty and broken, and she was going to be loyal and beautiful and  _here_ , then kissing her seemed like just exactly the right thing to do.

She tasted delicious, and when he put his hands to her ribcage, she felt wondrous. He pulled her close, suddenly not caring that he'd gone a little hard and she could probably feel it against her abdomen. She got brave with her tongue, pushing it into his mouth and moaning feebly as her knees gave out a bit. Voldemort pulled at her to hold her up, wrapping his arms about her and yanking her close. She reached up to his jaw, an act that would earn anyone else a Cruciatus Curse.

It felt good from her.

Somehow, he managed to pull himself away, feeling light-headed with his ears ringing. Everything tingled - the act of breathing, the pumping of his blood. It felt almost like magic again. He caught his breath and gnawed hard on his lip, finally finding Bellatrix's wide, shocked, pretty dark eyes.

"Your bedroom is the blue one," he told her again, gesturing vaguely behind her. "I trust you can Transfigure your clothing. Everything you should need is in there. Goodnight."

Bellatrix nodded, staggering backward a little. "Goodnight, My Lord."

She left then, her feet looking unsteady as she walked from the room and shut the door behind her. Voldemort dragged his hand over his short-cropped hair and let out a shaking breath. If only Dumbledore had known, he pondered, exactly what sort of curse he'd cast.

* * *

 

Somehow, she slept.

It took hours. Bellatrix stared at the ceiling, her heart thudding as she realised that her lord and master was just across the corridor in his own room. And he'd kissed her. Twice.

She relived those kisses, touching at her lips and shutting her eyes, and she fell asleep. She dreamed of him, of Lord Voldemort. She dreamed that all of wizarding Britain bowed down to him and worshipped him as she did. Even lost in the crowd of his admirers, she could feel his pulse through his fingers onto her face, and her sleep was bliss.

In the morning, when she woke, it seemed awfully bright outside. The clock on the wall read nine, and Bellatrix gasped when she realised she'd slept so late. She hurried out of bed and neatened it up with a spell, taking a quick moment to more closely admire the blue brocade that filled the room. He had quite the sense of style, her master.

She took a speedy shower, scrubbing at her flesh and hair and drying herself off with hot air spells. She Scoured her teeth and mouth and face, and she yanked her wild curls back with a black ribbon. She Transfigured her clothes into a knee-length black dress of cotton crepe, and she pulled her wide belt around her little waist. She hurried downstairs, wondering if she'd be scolded for sleeping so long.

She found him outside on the decking, leaning on the rail and staring down at the sea. She wondered briefly how often he did that here at his home, how many hours he'd spent just watching the waves come crashing in. Bellatrix cautiously opened the door that led outside, and her feet padded gently on the wooden deck as she approached him.

"My Lord," she said reverently. He kept staring ahead, but the corners of his lips curled up a little, and he muttered,

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd sleep forever."

Bellatrix felt her face go hot with embarrassment. "I apologise, Master. My mother would wring my neck if she ever saw me sleep so late."

"Hmm." He seemed amused, and he finally turned his face, flicking his eyes up and down her form as he asked, "Is she very strict? Your mother?"

"She is," Bellatrix said truthfully, leaning a bit on the railing. "It hardened me as a child, I think. Every little thing I did was wrong, or not enough, or irritating. I think I was a great bother to her; she was very young when I was born."

"I know. She was a few years ahead of me in school. There was a great hullabaloo when Druella Rosier married into the House of Black straight away after graduating, and an even greater hullabaloo when you were born ten months later."

"Oh." It had never occurred to Bellatrix that Lord Voldemort had once been a Hogwarts student. She wondered what his name had been, though of course to even wonder such a thing was treasonous. She put the thought from her mind and said,

"My mother was much softer to Andromeda, and even more so to Narcissa. And now look at Cissy… but I suppose it's the way of all babies, isn't it? They have softer hearts, perhaps."

"I wouldn't know," Voldemort said, shifting where he stood. "I never had siblings. Not real ones, anyway."

That was cryptic, and Bellatrix wanted to know more, but she didn't dare ask for it. She stared at the clouds rolling in off the sea, and she mused,

"I suppose it may rain."

"Probably." Lord Voldemort drummed his fingers on the wood. "Fancy a walk on the beach before the rain comes?"

"The… the beach, My Lord?" Bellatrix was in awe. He wanted to walk on the beach… with  _her_? She stared down at the smooth, white sand, and she asked, "How do we get down there?"

"We Apparate, of course," Voldemort said smoothly. Then, he pinched his lips and clarified, "Rather… you Apparate and take me by Side-Along. I trust you can manage a few hundred metres."

"Of course, Master," Bellatrix nodded. She pulled out her wand, and she sucked in air when Voldemort slid his fingers through hers. He stared at her then, and something made her squeeze his hand a little. He was so handsome, so devastatingly handsome and tall and -

"Let's go," he whispered at last. Bellatrix whirled hard to her right, and when they came to, they were on the sandy beach near some large boulders. Voldemort staggered away, looking dizzy and ill, and Bellatrix gasped,

"My Lord! Are you quite all right?"

"It's the… the Apparition…" Voldemort took a very long moment to just stand with his fingertips on his forehead, and finally he shook his head and insisted, "Very difficult to endure without magic of my own, I'm afraid."

"Oh." Bellatrix licked her bottom lip and eyed the ominous clouds on the horizon. She dragged her toes through the sand, relishing the feel of it, and then she heard Voldemort chuckle a little.

"When's the last time you were on a beach?" he asked, and Bellatrix smirked.

"Ten years, probably," she admitted. "We went to Portugal when I was small. Narcissa was so tiny… at least ten years, I'd say."

"Why don't you go feel the water round your ankles, then?" Voldemort suggested, his dark eyes shining oddly. Bellatrix giggled. She couldn't help herself. She dashed down across the beach, her steps dragging through the sand. At last she reached the waves, and she squealed with manic delight when the chilly water gushed round her ankles. She began to kick at the water, holding her knee-length skirts up a little. She dared to step out until the crashing waves reached her calves, and then she turned round to grin at her master.

He was leaning back against one of the large boulders, his arms crossed over his wispy dark green robes. He had a crooked little smile on his stern face. Suddenly the battle the day before seemed a world away. Getting her Dark Mark in June seemed like an eternity ago. It was like Bellatrix knew him, like they were real acquaintances, though of course that couldn't be so.

"Bellatrix!" Suddenly Lord Voldemort stood up straight, reaching quickly for his wand, his face going serious. Bellatrix whirled around toward the sea and then screamed a bit when a colossal wave dashed against her. Another followed shortly after it, and she lost her balance, careening down into the water. She spluttered, tasting salt and spitting out sand as she was hauled to her feet. She'd practically washed ashore, and now she found herself standing on the wet sand with Voldemort's arms around her.

"Waves are getting bigger," he noted. "Storm's coming in."

"Yes." Bellatrix shivered, soaked through and dripping. Voldemort brought his wand up to her hair, but he scowled when he seemed to realise just how useless that was. Bellatrix watched him tuck his wand away, and he pulled his hands from her wet body as he cleared his throat. He took a step back and stared at the sand.

"Why don't you go back up to the house?" he suggested.

"Shall I take you back with me, Master?" Bellatrix asked, but he shook his head.

"There are stairs… admittedly quite a lot of stairs, but… the Muggles that lived here before built some to access the beach. I'll take them back up. Go."

Bellatrix frowned. "But, My Lord…"

"Go," he said again, far more severely. His eyes were black as coal when they met hers, and he spoke through clenched teeth. "I gave you an order, Bellatrix; are you a Death Eater, or aren't you?"

Bellatrix just nodded and Disapparated, finding herself on the decking outside the house again. She stared down at him, at the place where he stood on the sand, and she decided to leave him be. She went inside, drying herself off with magic as she went. She padded barefoot into the library, scanning the bookshelves for an interesting title.

 _The Tale of the Scorned Witch_. That seemed entertaining, if nothing else. Bellatrix took the thin volume from the shelf and sat in one of the chunky leather chairs, opening the book and starting to read about Gisella and her no-good, philandering Muggle husband. After a while, the window in the library became speckled with rain, and after another half hour, the rain was falling so hard that Bellatrix could hardly see the grass outside the house. She shut the book and watched the rain, wondering if Voldemort was still outside.

She got her answer five minutes later, when he appeared at the door of the library, positively sodden. Bellatrix flew to her feet and curtsied, and she murmured,

"Shall I assist you, My Lord?"

"Yes," he said immediately. Bellatrix used all the nonverbal potential she had to minimise the embarrassment he must be feeling at her assistance, and she dried him off as best she could. She tucked her wand away, and suddenly Voldemort was charging into the library and snatching at her shoulders.

"I mean to kiss you until you're covered in bruises," he informed her. Bellatrix gasped, but her breath was wholly stolen by the way his lips crashed against hers, by the way his tongue delved hard into her mouth. He snatched at her hands and brought them to his chest, to the clasps doing up his robe. Bellatrix squealed into his mouth as she realised he wanted her to undress him. Her fingers shook like mad as she undid one clasp after another. He shucked his outer robe, and Bellatrix moaned as she pulled her mouth from his and saw that his arms were bared by the black layer beneath. He peeled it up and over his head, and Bellatrix's stomach lurched. He was tightly toned, his chest and stomach well-defined if thin. Bellatrix's fingers went on instinct to his shoulders, then down his front toward the place just above the waistband of his trousers.

He was going hard, she could see. She panted up at him, desperate for permission, and he nodded. Bellatrix unbuttoned his trousers and pulled him out, feeling him go firm in her hand. She gulped at the size of him, and he tipped his head back when she stroked a little.

"Have you ever… have you ever been a wizard before?" he asked, his voice choked a bit. Bellatrix didn't have the right answer for that, so she did the best she could.

"It's… complicated," she whispered. Voldemort frowned and lowered his face to hers, sounding breathless as he demanded,

"What do you mean, ' _it's complicated_ '?"

Bellatrix's hand froze, and she shrugged. "I was at school. They said it was a game. It wasn't really a game… they were drunk, and they snatched my wand, and they said they'd give it back if I let them touch me, but…"

"Who?" Voldemort was scowling now, and he batted Bellatrix's hand from his cock. She felt humiliated as she looked away and admitted,

"A few of the Slytherin boys. Rodolphus Lestrange made them stop; it was after curfew, and -"

"Who?" Voldemort demanded again, more sharply now. He tucked his member away and buttoned up his trousers, and Bellatrix muttered,

"Silas Travers. Maximus Malfoy. Porter Shacklebolt. Nero Selwyn. They were all big, Quidditch players, the lot of them. I couldn't get my wand back, so… I had to let them touch me. They said it was a game."

"And were they punished?" Voldemort's voice was like ice, and Bellatrix felt her throat burn at the memory of it all. His face looked so angry now, so she shook her head dismissively and said,

"They'd smuggled in firewhisky, Master. They were very drunk. It was late. I was out of bed past hours, and… no, My Lord. They weren't punished. Rodolphus made them give me my wand back."

"Where did they touch you? Forgive me… I lack my normal Legilimency abilities, or I'd see it for myself," Voldemort said, his voice still flinty. Bellatrix sighed and shook her head, staring at her feet.

"My… my chest. Between my legs. But I'm a virgin, My Lord."

"That is not what concerns me," he hissed. He pulled his outer robe on over his shoulders and whispered, "They will be punished."

"My Lord, it was months ago," Bellatrix insisted, but he seized her face in his hands and shook his head.

"I did not ask permission to punish them, Miss Black. They have committed an egregious wrong, the sort of thing my movement does not condone. Killing and wounding is one thing. Violation is another thing entirely, and I will not tolerate it. Three of the four you mentioned have Death Eater fathers. You think I'm going to simply forget what you've told me?"

A wild thought crossed Bellatrix's mind then, that she could try and Obliviate Lord Voldemort to make the whole thing go away. She was frustrated, because they'd been kissing and touching and then everything had ground to a halt over a stupid, painful memory.

"It was nothing," Bellatrix insisted, feeling a burn in her eyes. Voldemort scoffed.

"Nothing. That's not nothing, and they'll know how I feel about it."

There was a mighty crack of lightning then, which made Bellatrix wince, but Voldemort stared steadily into her eyes.

"You never ate anything," he noted dryly. "Go eat something. That's an order."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said, watching as he snatched his black shirt and stalked from the library.


	3. Chapter 3

"And so I said to him, ' _You bloody idiot, that's Erumpent Horn, not Bicorn Horn!_ ' He still managed to blow up the classroom. Slughorn had a fit over it."

Bellatrix laughed as Lord Voldemort relayed a story about his own time in Slytherin. They were eating spaghetti bolognese together at the dining-room table, and the sun was going down over the sea.

The last three days had passed in a hazy sort of peace. There was reading. There was wizard's chess. There were even Gobstones, which surprised Bellatrix as an object to be kept in the Dark Lord's home. They'd spent hours in the evenings just talking. They talked about Hogwarts, about the Dark Lord's goals, about the towns in Cornwall, about Bellatrix's routine of caring for her insane curls. They talked about everything. They never touched, but Bellatrix felt herself growing closer to him all the while. By the end of the third day, Bellatrix felt as though she truly knew the brooding man who was her master. Or, at least, she knew enough of him not to shy away when he smiled a little at her. He sipped at his wine and said suddenly,

"Earlier this morning, I Scoured my teeth. Well, I tried. I wound up cleaning them by hand, I promise. In any case, I felt just the slightest difference. I could have been imagining it, but…"

He pulled his wand out from the holster at his hip, and he aimed it at his empty plate of spaghetti.

" _Scourgify._ "

Bellatrix watched as a little glob of sauce disappeared from the plate. But nothing else happened, and Voldemort clutched at the edges of the table and looked very dizzy. He shook his head and muttered,

"I shall try again tomorrow."

"My Lord, I beg you not to wound yourself. This shows that the curse is indeed temporary. We must wait it out."

"We," he repeated, raising his eyes to her. They were cold and hard, and as he tucked his wand away, he commanded her, "Clean up the dishes."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix Scoured and Banished the dishes, and once they were back in the kitchen, she asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you, Master?"

"Yes," he nodded. He folded his hands on the table and licked his bottom lip, staring Bellatrix directly in the eyes and making her flinch a little. Voldemort's throat bobbed, and he said, "I have waited, because… because waiting seemed wise. But I do not wish to wait any longer. I will have what pleases me. Go upstairs to my bedroom and take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed."

Bellatrix felt her mouth drop open, and inside her chest, her heart thrummed like a plucked string. She just nodded silently and rose, and Voldemort reached for her hand. She stared down at him, and he seemed very sure of himself as he told her,

"I won't hurt you."

"You could if you wanted," Bellatrix whispered.

"Of course I could, but I don't want to," Voldemort replied. "Now go upstairs."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix nodded. She padded quickly from the dining room and through the parlor. She made her way up the stairs, thinking that she shouldn't be surprised. There had been flirtation these last few days, and before that there had been kissing and fondling and he'd been shirtless in the library. This, what was happening now, had been inevitable, probably.

Still, Bellatrix's hands shook like leaves on an autumn tree as she stripped off her wide belt and her gauzy dress. She struggled to get her bra off because of how badly she was shaking, and she nearly tripped stepping out of her knickers. She folded everything into a neat pile on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Then she aimed her wand at her lower abdomen and incanted the temporary contraceptive charm all female Hogwarts students learned. The boys probably should have learnt it, too, Bellatrix thought distantly.

She dragged her fingertips over the black and gold brocade bedding where her master slept, and it took some effort for her to crawl up onto the high bed. She sat there on the edge, uncertain of how he wanted her, and she folded her hands nervously in her lap. Finally the bedroom door opened, and in the threshold stood Lord Voldemort.

He just stared for a long moment, which made Bellatrix feel abjectly self-conscious. But as he shut the door behind him, he murmured,

"You're very pretty indeed."

Bellatrix nearly fainted then. To hear those words from him of all people… she grinned and let out the breath she'd been holding, watching with fascination as Voldemort went to his wardrobe and started to undress. He pulled off his outer robe and stripped off the shirt beneath. Facing away from her, he asked Bellatrix,

"Are you attracted to me?"

Bellatrix frowned. "Yes, My Lord. Of course I'm -"

"Do not be a sycophant now." He turned over his shoulder and let her watch as he unbuttoned his trousers. She felt her lips go dry, and she licked them frantically. Voldemort's voice was low and silky as he said, "Answer me truly, Bella. Are you attracted to me?"

"Yes," she answered at once. She raised her eyes from his trousers to his gaze, and she nodded frantically. "Yes, I am."

He pushed his trousers down over his hips and stepped out of them, along with his underwear. He turned back to put the clothes into the wardrobe, and Bellatrix couldn't help but stare at his backside.

"I won't hurt you," he said again. "If it hurts, I'll stop."

"You won't have to stop," Bellatrix insisted. She knew it usually tore and ached a bit the first time; she'd heard apocryphal tales from other girls and from the Hogwarts hospital matron. But she wasn't about to let a little pain get between her lord and her body. Voldemort was stalking toward the bed now, and he commanded her,

"Lie down."

She did, turning at once and putting her head on the pillows in the centre of the bed. She folded her hands over her stomach and knew she was tense and stiff. Her breath quickened when Voldemort crawled up onto the bed and sat beside her. His hands pulled her thighs apart a little, and the pads of his fingers started to massage the place where Bellatrix could bring herself to climax. His thumb started to work circles on her nub, and Bellatrix felt herself flush wet at once. Her hands flew from her stomach to the blankets, and she shut her eyes as Voldemort said quietly,

"I was your age, my first time. Eighteen. She was a girl who worked at the shop next door. There was only time with her; I couldn't be bothered with a second. Will there be a second time with you, Bellatrix? I wonder. And what would that mean?"

"I don't know, My Lord," Bellatrix whispered. She gasped when she felt his fingers twist into her, stretching and thrusting a little.

"Have you cast a contraceptive charm?" he asked, and she nodded desperately. Voldemort's breath was right beside her then, and when Bellatrix opened her eyes, he'd pulled his hand from her and arranged himself above her. He shook his head a little and admitted, "I can't… I can't stave it off. I can't wait to do it. Next time I'll go more slowly."

Next time. Bellatrix tried to answer him, to say something of use, but then he'd parted her legs further and there was the press of something wide and firm against her entrance. He bent to kiss her lips, and then he pushed into her.

It did hurt. It seared like fire for a moment, and Bellatrix whimpered helplessly against the Dark Lord's mouth. Her hands went to his back, her palms feeling the warmth of his skin and taking comfort. He started to move within her, and a grunt transferred from his mouth to hers.

Soon enough it wasn't hurting. It felt good. Smooth motions, in and out, in and out. Kisses on her neck, a hand cupping one breast. He was all over her, inside of her. He was warm and large and  _him_ , and Bellatrix suddenly lost herself to it all. She was clenching around him, her ears ringing as she saw spots, and Voldemort hissed into her ear,

"Good girl. Yes. Come for me, Bella."

She drove her head back against the pillow, for his movements became more insistent until he squeezed her breast roughly and smashed his mouth against hers. Then he groaned like a feral animal, wrenching himself up, supported by his hands. His face twisted as if he were in pain, and he panted a few times before whispering something unintelligible. Bellatrix could feel his seed leaking out of her then, and she stared up at him as he started to go soft inside of her.

His face got quite serious all of a sudden, and he slipped out of her and made his way off the bed and into the bathroom. Bellatrix heard the sink running, and she snatched her wand from the table beside the bed. She aimed it at the wet spot on the blanket and then between her legs, siphoning up all the evidence of what they'd done. Voldemort came out of the bathroom, soft now and seemingly unashamed to be seen that way. He went to his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of soft black pyjama trousers. He yanked them on and then grabbed a black velvet robe that was hanging up. He tossed it onto the bed and informed Bellatrix,

"You can put this on if you'd like. You're staying here tonight."

* * *

"You don't have to sleep so you're falling off the bed, you know." Voldemort eyed the way Bellatrix had slid right to the edge of his bed. Why he was letting her stay, he still didn't know. It felt awkward, he supposed, to boot her out of his room just after taking her virginity… especially since she'd only be going across the hall.

She smelled nice, he noticed. She smelled vaguely of roses, of the sea and flowers dancing together on a breath. Her hair was very pretty sprawled across the pillow, tight black curls in a halo around her head. When she turned to face him, her features were at once hard and delicate. Her eyes were so wide it seemed impossible. Suddenly Voldemort wanted her again, and he found himself swallowing heavily as all the lust he bore her sank into his veins.

"On second thought, perhaps you ought to spend the night back in your own room," he mused. "You may take the robe, if you wish."

"Of course, My Lord. Thank you." Bellatrix flew out of the bed as though it were on fire, and she snatched her clothes off the trunk at the foot of the bed. She stood there for a moment, the gentle curve of her breasts peeking out from beneath his robe and making his cock twitch a little. She needed to leave. Now.

"Goodnight," Voldemort barked, a little too harshly. Bellatrix opened her mouth to answer, but she was interrupted by the sound of tapping on the bedroom window. Voldemort looked up to see his boreal owl, Veles, pecking at the windowpane. Voldemort pulled himself from his bed and unlocked the window, saying firmly over his shoulder, "Goodnight, Bellatrix."

"Goodnight, Master," she replied meekly, and as Voldemort let Veles inside, Bellatrix's feet pattered on the tile floor. Veles had gone to Malfoy Manor the day before with a note demanding more detailed information, and today he came bearing a scroll sealed with the Malfoy family seal. Voldemort untied the scroll and whispered,

"Go and eat, Veles."

The owl flew back out the window, and Voldemort knew the bird would stay out at least until morning. He shut the window and then broke the seal on the scroll, unfurling it and recognising Abraxas Malfoy's writing at once.

_My Lord,_

_I do apologise if previous updates were of insufficient detail for you, Master. The truth is that there is very little to report. Yaxley was the only casualty in the battle, and he's healed up nicely with the help of an allied Healer who sealed his slashing wounds up. Yaxley is, to the best of my knowledge, back to full strength._

_The battle went unreported in the Daily Prophet, and as far as we can tell, there is no public knowledge of or outcry over the battle at all. Efforts to more fully infiltrate the Ministry have stalled, because the targets for Imperiusing have been difficult to access. However, Augustus Rookwood asserts that his network of spies are wholly devoted and may be able to help us achieve better infiltration soon. My son Lucius is, as you know, monitoring conversations during the upcoming term at Hogwarts and will keep us apprised of progress or threats at the school._

_I do hope, Master, that you are enjoying your respite. Please know that I would call you through my Mark at the very first sign of trouble, and that so far all is well. If there is anything else I can do to more effectively serve you in the meantime, I beg you to tell me, for I live entirely in your service._

_Your humble slave, Abraxas Malfoy_

Voldemort made a move to Vanish the scroll, but as soon as he realised he couldn't do so, he scowled and swore under his breath. He balled the letter up in his hand, deciding that it didn't warrant a reply. All he could hope was that neither Malfoy nor any of the other Death Eaters would call him through the Dark Mark. If they did, he'd have no way of answering them. He lacked the ability right now to Apparate at will to another Mark. But that wasn't something his followers could know.

He wasn't just disabled right now. He was vulnerable. His current weakness could be the end of him if he wasn't very careful. His eyes flicked up to the doorway through which Bellatrix had just gone. He should take her wand, he thought. Even if he had no magic of his own, it was probably for the best that she be rightly and truly trapped. He could take her wand and tie her ankle to the bedpost with complicated knotwork and…

No.

She would never betray him. Everyone else on Earth could betray him, and Bellatrix would die screaming for her master. He thought back to the feel of her beneath him, to the way her body had hugged him and had been perfectly warm and soft. She was like a lantern in the night, despite her own deep darkness, and Voldemort liked her.

He had to admit that much to himself now. There was no denying it; he enjoyed her. He liked her company; she was amusing and had a good sense of humour and a solid intellect. She was quiet when she needed to be, and always deferential, but she was also a skilled conversationalist and a suitable companion through this mess.

He liked her body, the curves on her and the way she tasted when he kissed her. He liked the sound of her voice, and the feel of her in bed with him had been so tempting that he'd sent her away. Perhaps that had been a mistake, Voldemort contemplated. Then, realising that if he thought it was a mistake to go without her, it had clearly been the right thing to do.

Suddenly Voldemort's left arm seared, and he frowned deeply as he stared down at his bare arm. His Dark Mark had gone black, and he could feel a distant pulse in his brain. Usually he could sense immediately who was Summoning him and why, but tonight he just felt urgency.

"Bellatrix!" His voice echoed off the walls of his own bedroom as he shouted for her, and a moment later she threw the door open and stood there in his robe.

"Get dressed," he commanded her, flashing her his blackened Mark. "We're going to Malfoy Manor."

There, he reckoned, he could at least get answers about what was going on. He had no choice; he couldn't…

"Wait," Voldemort said quietly, and Bellatrix whirled over her shoulder.

"Master?"

Voldemort shut his eyes and shook his head. "They can think I've got purple skin and warts all over me if they want, but they can't know I'm lacking magic. I need you to go. I must stay here."

"Of course, My Lord," Bellatrix said breathlessly. "I can go and come back. I can tell them you sent me, that you're still -"

"Healing. Yes. Go." Voldemort nodded swiftly, gesturing for Bellatrix to go into the other bedroom. She did, and he could hear her rustling about in the room to get dressed. His stomach churned as he realised just how crippled he was by Dumbledore's curse. He couldn't even answer the call of his servants.

Bellatrix reappeared in the bedroom doorway after a few moments, looking mildly disheveled. She straightened her curls and asked,

"Master, if they ask after you… out of concern… what shall I say?"

"You must lie," Voldemort said smoothly. "Tell them I had a limb severed and that it's regrowing. Tell them you're assisting me in an undisclosed location until I'm back to my normal fighting strength. Then tell them to stop asking questions. Go, Bella; something is amiss and I need to know what it is."

"Yes, My Lord. I shall return as quickly as I can, Master." She Disapparated from where she stood, and a moment later, Voldemort knew that she would be standing outside the gates of Malfoy Manor.

He tried to pass the time with mundane tasks. He took a languorous, hot shower. He scrubbed at his teeth three times until they were practically iridescent. He used a lint brush to manually clean off all his clothes. He shined his dress shoes by hand. He was still sitting on the trunk at the end of his bed with a shoe in his hand when a little pop sounded beside him.

Bellatrix.

She was breathless and looked concerned, and Voldemort tossed the shoe aside as he rose and demanded,

"And? What was it?"

"It's Yaxley, My Lord," Bellatrix said. "He must have taken some sort of curse with a delay during the battle. He collapsed in Diagon Alley yesterday. They took him to St Mungo's. An informant there sent Malfoy an owl about it today. The Healers are suspicious; they've asked the Ministry to enquire more deeply into the curse with which Yaxley's been stricken."

Voldemort huffed out a breath. "There's no stopping any of that, I'm afraid. The best we can do is to have our plant at St Mungo's Confound the Healers about it all."

"That's what I told Malfoy, My Lord," Bellatrix said sheepishly, and Voldemort cocked an eyebrow up, impressed. Bellatrix's cheeks went red, and she continued, "I told him he ought to have the Healers Confounded as well as the Ministry employees who might start investigating. I told him that the battle must stay a secret, that the movement isn't ready for open war just yet."

"You told him all that, did you?" Voldemort asked, taking a step closer to Bellatrix. She nodded, but she seemed unsure of herself as she admitted,

"I overstepped, I know. I apologise, Master."

"You did not overstep," he assured her, "and you were absolutely correct. Did anyone ask after me?"

Bellatrix adopted a more haughty stance and tipped her chin up. Her voice was tight and severe then as she said,

"The Dark Lord's right leg was severed in battle and destroyed. He is regrowing the limb through sheer power, with the aid of potions and spells. He can not be disturbed; he has suffered grave wounds for our cause and must be permitted to heal in peace."

Voldemort smirked. "Good girl. What a good little creature you are."

He took her face in his hands then, and he lowered his lips to her forehead as he noted,

"It's very late."

"So it is, Master," Bellatrix agreed, her breath shaking a bit.

"I want you naked in the bed in precisely one minute," Voldemort ordered her. Her contraceptive spell would still be good, he knew.

Five minutes later, he was buried to the hilt inside of her, rocking slowly from behind with his arm wrapped around her. She was moaning quietly, and Voldemort burrowed his nose into her rose-scented hair.

"Bella," he heard himself whisper, feeling the little twitch of her womanhood as she neared climax. He lowered his left hand and fiddled with her clit for a moment, pressing and pulsing his fingers until she went tight as a wire and snapped. Her body cinched around his cock, and Voldemort kissed her neck roughly as he groaned with pleasure. She felt so good, so tight and warm, and he knew he only had a moment himself. He pressed his lips to her jaw and murmured again,

"Good little creature. So good, so pretty and clever and… Bella…"

He was lavishing praise on her, he knew. Too much praise. But he couldn't bring himself to care. She had served him well for these last days of confinement. She had served him better than ever in going to Malfoy Manor. But it wasn't just about servitude. He liked her.

He felt his seed pump in spurts into her body, his cock flinching a few times as the hot satisfaction blazed through his veins. He slipped out of her and turned her around until he could kiss her, which he proceeded to do far more gently than he'd ever done.

Slow and easy, warm and soft… he let his lips press against hers a few times and then nibbled a bit at her lip. He shouldn't be this gentle with her, he thought distantly. She'd get ideas in her head about what all of this meant. But he couldn't stop kissing her, and he couldn't stop himself from rolling onto his back and cradling her close against him.

"Sleep here," he said finally, and Bellatrix whispered,

"I'd sleep on a rock if you willed it, Master."

"I hope you prefer this bed," he said dryly. She raised her eyes to him, staring up at him through a few stray curls. He pushed them aside so he could see her better, and she assured him,

"This bed is paradise, My Lord."

He opened his mouth and tried to say something useful. He tried to thank her for her service, for going to Malfoy Manor and representing him well. He tried to tell her that she'd done more in two months as a Death Eater than any of the rest of them had in years of servitude. He tried to tell her something, anything, but the only thing that came out was,

"Goodnight, Bella."

She bravely touched her lips to his sternum, her voice a pleasant buzz against his sternum as she replied,

"Goodnight, My Lord."

Voldemort shut his eyes then, trying to sink into the bed and just fall asleep. It was very much against his will that his fingers went to her hair, that he played with her curls until he slipped from consciousness. He did not mind at all the feeling of her fingers drifting around his chest, and indeed it was a comforting sensation. When he slept, it was a dreamless and restful sleep, and when he woke in the morning, she was still beside him on the bed.

He should have sent her away with a threat of death, Voldemort thought, not for the first time. But in the grey light of morning, as he studied Bellatrix's sleeping form, he was very glad indeed that he'd kept her here with him.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

' _Come on, Bella, love. It's just a game.'_

_'Get her between the thighs, Nero; see what you find!'_

Bellatrix scowled at the sea as she bent to pick up a stone. She stared down at the pale grey rock, dragging sand across it with her thumb before tossing it into the air before her. She caught it with her wand, Levitating it and then magically hurling it out into the water. It hit with such velocity that the smack of the splash cut through the sound of crashing waves. Bellatrix bent to pick up another stone, unable to rid herself of the awful memories of what the boys had done to her.

He'd stirred up those memories - Lord Voldemort - though Bellatrix doubted he'd meant to do so. She hadn't thought often about the way the boys had knifed their fingers up her skirt, the way they'd pawed roughly at her breasts and put their lips to her neck. She felt dirty now, standing here on the cloudy beach with a thick jumper on. It was uncharacteristically cold today, and the wind felt good whipping Bellatrix's curls about. She tossed the next stone by hand, and it landed with a pathetic sort of plunk.

She glanced up toward the house and thought of her master. For the last three nights in a row, he'd taken her body. That had never once felt like a violation. It had felt good; it had felt vivid and correct. He'd given her explicit instruction in brewing a longer-lasting contraceptive potion, which she'd done with the supplies he had around the house. He'd gone into town whilst she'd been brewing, for they needed more food and he could act the part of a Muggle with ease, he'd said.

She shivered now on the beach as she thought of him in his black cardigan and white collared shirt, in his grey trousers that matched the silver threads through his hair. He'd certainly looked like a Muggle, and when he'd come back to the house with armloads of paper bags, he'd looked mundane. But he wasn't mundane. He was divine.

Bellatrix had dosed herself with the contraceptive potion just like he'd insisted she do, because he didn't want to take a chance on putting a bastard in her. That's what he'd said. And he wanted to keep taking her, because he liked it. Whether she was his mistress or his whore or something else entirely was of precisely no consequence to Bellatrix. She's slept in his bed twice now, and waking up beside him was bliss. She didn't care about titles or formality. She just cared about him, about the man who had power coursing through him even when his magic was gone.

_CRACK!_

Bellatrix whirled round at the ripping, snapping sound behind her. She gasped when she saw Lord Voldemort appear out of thin air, his wand gripped tightly in one hand. Then he collapsed to his knees and started bleeding all over the wet sand, and Bellatrix fought not to scream.

" _Accio_  Dittany!" She aimed her wand up toward the house without thinking and cried out the spell, and she dashed barefoot across the sand to where her master was kneeling. There was blood pouring from his rib cage, where clothing and flesh were missing in horrid stripes. He'd Apparate down here, Bellatrix realised, and he'd Splinched himself badly. Half his torso was slashed with great missing bits that were gushing out blood, and Bellatrix descended to her knees at the same moment she caught the flying Dittany.

"Don't worry, Master," she mumbled, listening to his rickety, shallow breath. He collapsed further, onto his side, the blood staining the sand in terrible rivulets. She rotated him and saw that there were grains of sand all over his wounds, and he muttered through clenched teeth,

"Clean it out, Bellatrix."

"Of course, My Lord.  _Scourgify_." Bellatrix aimed her wand all along the wounds, and the specks of sand Vanished along with all the old blood. Bellatrix's hands shook as she opened the bottle of Essence of Dittany. She began to drop it all over the wounds, and Voldemort's snake-like hiss of pain told her it was working. He reached for her thigh and squeezed hard, his eyes wrenched shut as he tipped his head back against the sand.

"It's closing up, Master," Bellatrix assured him, watching the flesh knit back together. The bleeding stopped, and soon enough his skin was smooth and right again. His shirt was still torn, so Bellatrix aimed her wand at it and said, " _Stolas_   _Reparo_."

The fibres of the dark green material started weaving themselves together again. Bellatrix siphoned up the blood from the beach, and she asked carefully,

"May I get you an Invigoration Draught or anything from the house, My Lord?"

"No… you've… you've done well. Thank you." Voldemort sat up very slowly, clutching at his rib cage as he pondered, "There's probably a good bit of bloody flesh in the library."

Bellatrix smiled meekly and shrugged. "My Lord, you Apparated."

"Sort of," he corrected her, his own smile quite crooked. Bellatrix gave him a meaningful look as she rose to her feet and extended a hand to him. He stood on his own, brushing sand from his clothes as she noted,

"Soon enough you'll be back with the others. Back to your full strength. Your magic is returning. Could there be any greater joy?"

"And you?" He stared down at her as he tucked his wand away, and Bellatrix frowned. Behind her, waves were beating the shore more vigorously; the tide was coming in. They'd have to ascend the wooden stairs soon enough.

"What about me, My Lord?" Bellatrix finally asked. Voldemort shifted on his feet and asked,

"Where will you go, once you're released from Cornwall?"

Bellatrix gulped. "I've a little flat in London."

"Have you?" He seemed surprised by that, but Bellatrix told him,

"As soon as I took the Dark Mark, My Lord, I moved out of my parents' house. The place is owned by the Mulciber family, and I rent it from them."

"Oh." Voldemort nodded and stared up at the house, a wistful little look coming over his face. She wondered what he was thinking then, but before she could get any sort of answer, he lowered his eyes to hers and whispered,

" _Legilimens_."

Bellatrix was shocked to feel the thud of him crashing into her mind, and all of a sudden memories where whirling before her. The endless parade of mental images finally stopped, and Bellatrix found herself whispering,

"Not that one. Please."

_'Get your filthy hands off of me, Silas!' Bellatrix squirmed and reached for the wand Maximus Malfoy was holding. Silas Travers was too big, a whole head taller than her, and she was yanked back against the erection forming in his school trousers._

_'Nobody ever told me your tits were so soft, Bellatrix,' he laughed, and she turned her head and snarled at him like an animal._

_'Let me go or I'll see to it that you're walking around without a cock, Silas.'_

_'What the blazes is going on here?' Rodolphus Lestrange walked into the Common Room, his Prefect badge more welcome now than ever. Suddenly Bellatrix was able to clamber off of Silas Travers, and she hissed at Rodolphus._

_'They called it a game. Touching me and stealing my wand.'_

_'Give it back to her. Now,' Rodolphus commanded. Malfoy lowered the wand and held it out to Bellatrix, looking so drunk she thought he might fall over. Rodolphus sneered at his Quidditch teammates and shook his head. 'Go to bed, all of you. Bella, you stay.'_

_She did, and once the boys had mumbled half-hearted apologies and made their way to the boys' dormitories, she turned to Rodolphus._

_'Thanks,' she said simply, and he shrugged._

_'Do you need to go to the Infirmary?'_

_'No,' Bellatrix said firmly. She straightened her uniform, yanking at the tie they'd loosened. 'No. I'm fine.'_

_She didn't feel fine, but she wouldn't tell Rodolphus or anybody else that information. She hardened her face and tipped her chin up and said again,_

_'Thanks. Goodnight.'_

_'Night, Bella.' Rodolphus sounded mournful as he watched her go to the girls' dormitory. Bellatrix walked on shaking legs, and it wasn't until she had her face buried in the pillow on her bed that she finally let the tears worm their way from her eyes._

Lord Voldemort pulled out of Bellatrix's head, and she stared up at him where they stood on the beach.

"You Legilimency is back, then," she noted. He didn't seem to care about whether his Legilimency was back. He parted his lips and then shut them again, shivering a little where he stood in the cold in his thin robes. Or maybe he was shaking with anger. Bellatrix couldn't tell.

"You consented with me," he said, and he seemed to be assuring himself far more that informing her. She nodded vehemently.

"Yes, My Lord. I consented with you. I like very much when you touch me. When you kiss me. It's not anything like -"

"Shall I kiss you now?" His voice was flinty, but Bellatrix just wrapped her jumper more tightly about herself and nodded.

"Yes, please."

"All right." Voldemort took her face in his hands, his wand pressing lengthwise against her cheek as he lowered his lips to hers. Bellatrix was expecting something deep and passionate, like nearly all his kisses had been, but that wasn't what happened. His lips brushed softly against hers, and then he finally pressed his mouth to hers as he sighed a little. He pulled away and glanced out to the sea.

"Tide's coming in. We should walk up."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix agreed. She watched his throat bob, and he mused,

"When I feel confident leaving here, you'll go to your little flat in London. I shall require the address."

Bellatrix's stomach fluttered a bit. "Of course, My Lord."

He turned then, without another word, and he made his way to the many wooden stairs ascending the cliff up to the house.

* * *

" _Incendio_ ," Lord Voldemort incanted, aiming his wand at the fireplace in his bedroom. At once, flames materialised upon the grate, and Voldemort swallowed hard as he murmured, " _Engorgio… Evanesco_."

The fire grew and then Vanished at the Dark Lord's command. He was ready, he realised. He was ready to return to public life as the fearsome Lord Voldemort. He was ready to be in the presence of his Death Eaters again, to reign above and around those who feared his power. He was ready for live again.

Then he stared out through his open door to the closed one that led to Bellatrix's bedroom, and he thought he would miss this. All of this. This place, this little life he'd made with her. It had been two weeks in total that they'd been here now. He was fond of her. He couldn't deny himself that reality. But he had another life, a life so much bigger than Bellatrix Black.

" _Orchideous_ ," he whispered, and a bouquet of purple and red flowers was Conjured in the air before him. It floated downward and he caught it, stalking in his grey pyjama trousers through his room and out into the corridor. It was two in the morning. He could hear the waves outside, the other heavy silence that surrounded the house at night. He could hear nothing from Bellatrix's room, and he knew that she was sleeping.

He should knock, he thought. It was the polite thing to do, and though he'd never much cared about being polite, the concept did affect him when it came to Bellatrix. He raised his fist to the door and prepared to knock, but then he lowered his fingers to the doorknob and turned.

She flew to sit up when he pushed the creaky door open, and when she reached for her wand, he muttered,

"It's only me."

"Master," she breathed, for he'd never come into her room at night before. She started to make her way from the bed, doubtlessly so that she could dip into a curtsy and worship him. But Voldemort gestured for her to lie back down, and he set his Conjured flowers on the table beside her bed. He sat on the edge and told her flatly,

"I made those."

"They're beautiful, My Lord." Bellatrix reached to touch gently at the petals, flashing him a little smile. Voldemort huffed and informed her,

"That I can now Conjure flowers means I am ready. My magic has returned. I can go back to life as it was now."

Bellatrix's face darkened for a half second, and she kept on delicately touching the flowers.

"How very pleased I am, Master," she said, though she didn't sound pleased at all.

"Bellatrix." Voldemort reached for the hand she was using to stroke the petals, and he snared his fingers through hers. He waited for her to find his eyes, and he told her, "You have become mine more thoroughly than when I put your Dark Mark upon you. These last few weeks, you have become more indelibly, more deeply mine. Do you deny it?"

"I can't deny it," Bellatrix said, sitting up, "and I would never wish to do so. I am… I have… I would never wish for you to have gone without your magic, My Lord, but I must confess that these last weeks have been the most pleasant in all my life."

"Then I shall not return to life as it was, after all," Voldemort said quietly, "but rather a life slightly altered. Augmented by your presence. Tell me you consent to it, to my visiting your flat or summoning you here. Tell me it is what you want."

Bellatrix's lips parted a bit. "My Lord, it does not matter what I want. All that matters is what you want."

He took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, and he whispered against her mouth,

"Tell me you don't want any of this to stop."

"I don't want it to stop," she confessed then, her fingers trailing down his bare chest. She started to climb atop his lap then, slithering around him as he shoved his flannel trousers down. She wore nothing beneath her knee-length nightgown, he could tell now. She started to rub herself onto him, and he felt himself harden a bit at the slick, warm feel of her.

"I don't want it to stop," she said again, tipping her head back a little. Voldemort seized the opportunity to kiss her there, to latch his mouth onto her neck. He wanted to bruise her up. If tomorrow they would be at Malfoy Manor, then Bellatrix Black would be there with purple marks from her lord all over her flesh.

He suckled and bit, kissing the places he abused as Bellatrix's voice filled the bedroom. Her hands tangled in his short, greying hair, and she started to pump her body more insistently against his. Voldemort reached between them to line everything up, and when she sank onto his cock, he hissed against her throat. It felt so delicious for her to surround him, for him to be sheathed within her. It was tight and smooth, hot and twitching. He liked it. He liked her, quite a lot indeed.

"Ahh!" She was really in pain now, he could tell. He'd sucked far too hard on one spot, and as he pulled away, he could see a ferocious, speckled purple and red spot forming.

"Sorry," he mumbled disingenuously, thinking perhaps he'd marked her up enough. Bellatrix was swaying on him, but it wasn't what he wanted. He always got what he wanted from her. He took her jaw in his hands and ordered her, "Get on your hands and knees."

"Yes, Master," she panted, and she scrambled off of him as she arranged herself on the bed. Voldemort just studied her for a long moment. He'd never taken her like this, with her womanhood and backside so exposed. She was thin, but she had curve to her, too. Voldemort dragged his fingers down Bellatrix's ribs and over her waist, then cupped her backside and squeezed. She moaned a little, and he realised she liked the feel of him being a bit rough.

He pulled his hand back and hesitated for a half second, then spanked her hard. Bellatrix collapsed from her hands to her elbows and let out a muffled cry into the pillow. Voldemort spanked the same spot, rubbing at the flesh that went hot and pink. Then, unable to wait any longer, he touched his tip to her entrance and plunged into her, pumping himself like a mechanical piston.

He must have been grinding her just so, touching just the right spot with every thrust, because soon enough she was keening wildly against the pillow. She slapped her hand onto the mattress and exclaimed,

"Ahh! Yes!"

Then he felt her clenching round his member, and he paused to watch the contractions around his shaft. That felt like a profoundly dirty thing to do, and it drove him straight over the edge. It was his turn to climax then, his seed filling her and leaking straight back out in its bounty. He groaned and held onto her waist, pushing his hips forward a few more times to soak up the pleasure.

Somehow he made it onto his back with her curled up beside him. He reached for his wand and siphoned up the mess he'd made inside of her, and he set his wand down as he pulled her closer.

"I don't want it to stop," Bellatrix whispered for the third time. Voldemort kissed her forehead, thinking of life among his Death Eaters with Bellatrix on the side.

"It won't stop," he assured her, staring at the ceiling. "It won't stop because I do not wish to stop, and I get what I want. From you and from everyone else."

"Will you stay?" She sounded very uncertain then, and suddenly Voldemort was afraid of what it might mean if he did stay. In her room, in the guest room of his own house? What did any of this mean, anyway? Did it matter?

"I'll stay," he told her, using powerful wandless magic to pull the blankets up around them. He'd stay because he wanted to stay, and Lord Voldemort always got what he wanted.


	5. Chapter 5

"Do try not to look so sour, Bellatrix. This is a day of celebration; the Dark Lord has returned." Voldemort gave Bellatrix a heavy look as they sauntered through the gardens outside Malfoy Manor. She tipped her chin up and squared her jaw.

"I apologise, Master. I shall demonstrate my glee more effectively," Bellatrix promised. She watched as he gave her a sceptical look, and he stopped his feet on the lawn. He sniffed a little and glanced around at the rose bushes.

"Bellatrix," he said carefully, "There are many things, perhaps, for which I would be remiss not to thank you."

"Master." Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot, and she shook her head. "You needn't -"

"I shall do as I please," he said sharply, "and I am going to thank you. I command that you listen now. Are you listening, Miss Black?"

"I am listening, My Lord," Bellatrix said shakily, watching her master lick his bottom lip and cross his arms over his chest.

"You saved my hide, literally and figuratively, on that beach, Bella. You provided more than ample companionship during those days of isolation. You cooked. You kept my spirits up, so to speak. You… you…"

His throat bobbed, and he stared at the grass for a moment. Bellatrix felt awkward then, crushed beneath the weight of his praise. Bellatrix tucked her hair behind her ears as the wind picked up a little, and she whispered,

"Perhaps we should go inside."

"Thank you, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, raising his eyes until they met hers. He nodded once, quite crisply, and he said again, "Thank you."

Then he turned and walked quickly up to the door, and now Bellatrix could follow him with a real smile on her face. She trotted to keep up with him, watching the enormous doors of the manor swing open slowly at his wandless command. His magic was truly back, she pondered. He'd come here by Side-Along Apparition performed by Bellatrix, just in case. But now he was using his bare hand to shove open a doorway, and Bellatrix knew they'd left Cornwall at the right time.

They were all waiting inside. When Bellatrix followed Lord Voldemort up the stairs and down the corridor, they walked in silence, but she could hear murmurs coming from the large dining room. When they walked into the meeting space, a few people seemed curious that Bellatrix was with the Dark Lord, but most people knew she'd been with him. When she'd come on his behalf to Malfoy Manor, she'd informed them all of his state, of his need for peace.

But he was back now.

Everyone stood when Lord Voldemort entered the room, and Abraxas Malfoy said joyfully,

"My Lord! How magnificent to see you again."

"Indeed, Master," said Yaxley meekly. Voldemort nodded once, finding his spot at the head of the table, gesturing for Bellatrix to sit beside him. He sat, and nodded for everyone else to do the same. Then he turned his attention to Yaxley and said simply,

"You're looking well."

"Master." Yaxley bowed his head. "I apologise for any minor scandal my collapse created. I am well now, and the Healers and Ministry officials -"

"I have been briefed on the matter and am very well aware of what is happening," Voldemort said. He rolled his head as if to crack his neck, and he turned his face to Travers. "Your son assaults witches."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go round. She watched Travers' plump face go beet red, and the others shifted uncomfortably. Travers opened his mouth to speak, but Voldemort snapped,

"Do not dare say what you're thinking, Travers. I know your son's behaviour better than you do. Silas got drunk and assaulted a witch. Keep him out of my presence and away from any official happenings with the movement. If I catch sight of him, it will mean a Cruciatus Curse. Convey my displeasure and my warning to him. I will be obeyed in this matter. Understood?"

Travers nodded desperately and dabbed a handkerchief at his sweaty neck. "My Lord. I am more… more sorry than I can say if my son has -"

"Be silent," Voldemort hissed. He turned his face to Abraxas Malfoy and informed him, "Your nephew Maximus was involved in the same incident. Keep those boys out of our organisation. Keep them in line, or I swear that their screams will echo through this manor. Have I made myself quite clear?"

Abraxas Malfoy drained white. "Perfectly clear, Master."

Voldemort drummed his fingers on the table and looked around. Bellatrix's heart was thudding in her chest, a war drum beaten by her lord and master. Voldemort flicked his eyes from Mulciber to the Lestrange brothers, and Bellatrix watched his eyes settle on Rodolphus Lestrange, the boy who had joined the ranks of the Death Eaters the same time Bellatrix had done. The boy who had called off the dogs the night of the awful incident.

"Lestrange," Voldemort said, and suddenly Bellatrix knew that he was in Rodolphus' head. She could tell; she knew the look in his eye when he was conducting Legilimency. Rodolphus squirmed in his seat, his teeth visibly clenched. Everyone else seemed quite curious, but Voldemort just sniffed lightly and then seemed to release Rodolphus from his invisible bindings. He folded his hands on the table and said, "Malfoy, see to it that Rodolphus Lestrange is granted a fine position at the Ministry. He has earned it twice over."

"Thank you, My Lord," Rodolphus whispered, lowering his gaze. His eyes flicked up after a moment, settling on Bellatrix, and he smiled just a little.

"I shall see to that straight away, My Lord," Bellatrix heard Abraxas Malfoy say. Voldemort rose, and everyone else followed suit.

"Continue recruiting. Continue our games of espionage. Continue to get the Ministry in our hold," Voldemort said sharply. "We will meet again soon. Dismissed."

Everyone started to filter out then. Bellatrix held back, but when she saw that Voldemort seemed engrossed in a conversation with Yaxley, she left. She caught up with Rodolphus Lestrange in the corridor, and as they walked down the stairs, she said quietly,

"I didn't mean for that incident to ever come up again. Just the same, I wanted to thank you for what you did."

"I didn't do nearly enough," Rodolphus said, shaking his head. He gave Bellatrix a serious look and insisted, "I ought to have seen to it that they were all expelled, or at least had fifty points taken apiece. I didn't have the courage to lose us the House Cup, or to bring such shame to Slytherin. I was also… I was afraid about retribution against you."

"He knows that," Bellatrix insisted. "He knows you did right by me, and it matters. I promise."

"Is he quite well now?" Rodolphus asked as they followed the stream of Death Eaters out to the Apparition Point. Bellatrix glanced behind her, knowing that Voldemort was inside the manor and feeling the pang of separation from him for the first time in weeks. She nodded.

"He's fine now. Good seeing you, Rodolphus."

"And you," he nodded, whirling to his right and disappearing the instant he could.

Hours later, Bellatrix sat in her flat in Notting Hill, staring out the window at the Muggle cars below. She had a mug of hot tea gone cold in her hands, and she set it down on the little table before her. It was one in the morning, and she ought to be sleeping, but she couldn't. Not here, alone, away from the sea and away from him.

It started to rain outside, just a little drizzle at first and then sheets of torrential downpour slashing through the night. One of the nearby street lamps flickered for a moment, making eerie shadows in the rain. Bellatrix frowned when she saw a dark figure moving down the sidewalk, for this little side street was usually deserted at this hour. She sighed and went into her tiny kitchen, dumping out her mug of ruined tea and resolving to start fresh.

She jolted a little at the sound of a gentle knock on the door that led from the flat to the corridor, and she pulled out her wand. She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the peephole in the door, seeing a tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.

Her breath quickened at once as she recognised the shape of his jaw and chin, and then she couldn't open the door quickly enough. Lord Voldemort pulled his sodden hood down the moment Bellatrix flung open the door, and he murmured,

"Sorry to bother you at this hour. May I come in?"

* * *

"He is in love with you," Voldemort said, shutting the door behind him and peeling off his rain-soaked cloak. He ignored Bellatrix's confused look as he hung up his cloak, and he sniffed a bit. "Rodolphus Lestrange. He's in love with you."

"My Lord, I do not mean to contradict you," Bellatrix said, backing up a little through her corridor, "but he doesn't know me well enough to be in love with me. A crush, perhaps, but…"

"Well. He thinks he's in love with you." Voldemort glared at Bellatrix and brushed water from his sleeves. Outside, the rain fell harder than ever, and he asked her, "Have you got tea?"

"I was just making some," Bellatrix said with a little smile. He followed her into the kitchen and watch as she filled a kettle with water that she boiled with her wand. She popped two tea bags into mugs and filled them with the hot water, and she murmured a spell to make the tea brew more quickly. She turned over her shoulder and asked, "Milk or sugar, Master?"

"No." He stepped into the kitchen and picked up one of the mugs, sipping at the searing liquid and relishing the way it almost burned his throat. It was a cold rain falling outside, and he'd walked the last few blocks here.

"You found the place all right, then?" Bellatrix asked awkwardly. Voldemort threw up an eyebrow.

"Obviously. I'm here, aren't I?"

There was quiet then for a very long moment, the kind of comfortable quiet they'd enjoyed for long stretches in Cornwall. Voldemort thought back to the meeting earlier in the day, to the feeling of being in charge again. He'd liked it - quite a lot, actually - but he'd missed the solitude just a little. He was not an overtly social man.

"I feel badly that a stupid little incident has become such a hullabaloo." Bellatrix sipped at her tea, and Voldemort set his down on her counter.

"Don't do that," he muttered. Bellatrix looked confused, and he specified, "Do not pretend it wasn't what it was - a gang of drunken boys groping you whilst you tried to fight back for your wand. It was…"

He stopped then, because he could feel his magic crackling around him in his anger. He tried to swallow and encountered a thick lump in his throat.

"If their fathers weren't Death Eaters, I'd kill them," he said simply, meeting Bellatrix's eyes in the dark kitchen. She nodded, and then they just stared at one another as the rain lashed the window. Voldemort finally broke his gaze from hers so he could look around at her little flat. It was clean and neat with elegant, dark furnishings, but it was cramped. There was a small bedroom at the end of the corridor, he could see. The kitchen was in the middle, with a table that only sat two. The bathroom was squeezed into the corridor, and the overcrowded parlour was at the other end. It was a third-floor unit, a long walk up winding, tight stairs, and Voldemort found himself asking her,

"Why do you live here?"

She scoffed a little laugh and stared down into her tea. "Remember, My Lord, how we discussed my mother? It's quite difficult to live with her, if I'm honest. But, then, I imagine it's also quite difficult to live with me."

"No, it isn't." Voldemort swigged down the last of his tea in two scalding gulps, wandlessly Scouring the mug and Banishing it to the sink. He crossed his arms and shook his head as he told Bellatrix, "I know from experience what it is to live with you. It is not difficult."

"Oh." She sounded awed then, a strange look coming over her eyes. She drummed her fingers on her mug and asked, "Master, did you need something of me tonight?"

"Yes." He hadn't come here for tea. He'd come here because he'd been back in Cornwall, staring at the ceiling, knowing that her bedroom was empty and feeling genuinely lonely for the first time in his memory. He stepped up to Bellatrix and cupped one of her breasts through her thin black cotton nightgown. She gasped, and he caught her mouth up in a quiet little kiss.

"I got used to you," he informed her, and Bellatrix shut her eyes as he squeezed her soft, small breast a bit. "Let's go to your bedroom."

"All right…" Bellatrix looked and sounded dizzy and breathless. Voldemort found himself lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her out of her kitchen, down the corridor to her little bedroom. The bed, a smallish double with a poufy grey comforter, was half-made. The blankets had been pulled up in the general direction of the floppy pillows, but nothing was tightly done. Bellatrix looked embarrassed all of a sudden, especially when her eyes trained on the brassiere that was dangling over the corner of the dresser. She snatched at the bra and stuffed it into a drawer, and she whispered,

"I'm sorry, My Lord."

"No." He shook his head a little and kissed her, backing her up against the wallpaper and edging up the hem of her casual nightgown. There was much he wanted to tell her, much that had occurred to him as he had stared at the ceiling in Cornwall. Somehow he boiled up the courage inside of him enough to say, "I enjoy spending time with you, and stray clothing or a rumpled bed is not going to ruin that for me."

"My Lord…" Bellatrix's nipples went visibly hard in the darkness of the bedroom, and Voldemort dragged his thumbs over them through the cotton of her nightgown. She drove her head back against the wall, her quick pulse visible on her neck as she whispered frantically, "My Lord. My Lord…"

"Yes?" He smirked a bit, teasing her, bending to brush his lips over the bruises he'd left on her throat the night before. He tasted the flesh there, peeking his tongue out enough to get the warm flavour of her. Suddenly he wanted to taste something different, and he said against her skin, "Up on the bed, Bella."

"Yes, Master." She was holding his biceps, but she let go reluctantly as she passed by him and took the two steps to the edge of her bed. It creaked a bit when she pulled herself up onto it, revealing its age and quality. Bellatrix arranged herself on the pillows, staring out the window at the rain.

"You can't be nervous with me anymore," Voldemort said disbelievingly, rolling up his shirt sleeves and kicking off his shoes. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled himself out, crawling up onto the bed with Bellatrix. She kept her eyes locked on the window, and she said softly,

"My Lord, I'm only afraid that I won't please you."

"I'm going to put my mouth between your legs," he informed her, tipping his head and cocking up an eyebrow. "You're not the one doing the pleasing. Not this time. Well… that's not true, strictly speaking. It will please me to taste you."

Bellatrix's eyes went round as saucers, and she opened her mouth to say something, but Voldemort shushed her and instructed her,

"You just lie there. That's all you do. Stare at the rain if you like."

He was growing hard, but he ignored his cock in favour of pulling Bellatrix's knickers down over her thighs and knees. He took his time sliding them down her calves, and when they were around her ankles, he stared up at her and saw her chest heaving and her eyes shut. Voldemort felt a surge of want as he dragged his thumb around the inside of her ankle, and when he pulled the knickers off, he noticed they felt smooth and soft. He set them aside and slid up between her legs, pushing up her nightgown and letting his hands massage her hips and thighs.

"My Lord," he heard her whisper, and he replied with a little grunt of need. He put his lips to the inside of her knee and dragged them up her thigh, mirroring the action on the other side with his hand.

She tasted like metal, like heavy womanhood. He lapped her up, lathing his tongue in long strokes all along her folds. Bellatrix whined above him, and suddenly her hands were in his hair. Outside, the first thunderclap of the night sounded, which seemed appropriate. She wasn't looking at the rain, Voldemort knew then. She was looking down at him, and that thought made his cock twitch.

He kept licking, slowly and steadily, knowing that he'd drive her to insanity by doing the same thing over and over again. All he altered was to deepen the strokes of his tongue, and he tasted a flush of new wetness from her as she grew more and more aroused.

"Bellatrix," he whispered against her, and she cried out as if she were in pain. Her hands went to the shoulders of his shirt, squeezing for dear life. Voldemort sucked one of her lips into his mouth, then the other, and then he focused on her nub. He flicked his tongue around it, sucked gently on it, and then flattened his tongue over it.

He was so hard it hurt, and he started to pulse his hips against the blanket in a desperate attempt to satisfy himself. He moaned against her, and the vibration of his voice seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. Bellatrix's back was arching. She was fisting the blanket and driving her head back against the pillow. She was coming, clenching around his lips as he tried to drink up her climax. She was repeating two sacred words over and over again…

My Lord. My Lord.

He finally pulled up, unable to control himself any longer. He hadn't pulled his trousers all the way down, and he knew he had mere seconds before he finished. So he wrenched Bellatrix's nightgown up and revealed her flat, milky stomach. He stroked at his cock as she recovered, and her eyes marveled at the sight of him hovering above her. Then everything tightened and tightened and wound up and snapped.

Voldemort growled a little as his eyes rolled back and his seed leaped from his cock. He watched it land in obscene puddles all over Bellatrix's smooth stomach, and through the ringing in his ears, he heard himself whisper,

"Oh, Bella."

A few minutes later, he'd siphoned up his seed and had Scoured his mouth so that he could kiss her. He did that, lying beside her in her small and simple bed, his mouth crushing hers as he tried to breathe her in.

She was like a drug that he craved all the time now, but he didn't care. She was a distraction, but he didn't care. She was just a little thing - so very young - but he didn't care. She was Bellatrix, and he liked her here just as well as he'd liked her in Cornwall.

"I'm going to have my revenge on Dumbledore," Voldemort said against Bellatrix's mouth. "The first Hogsmeade trip of the year, I'm going to attack a student. A Mudblood. And you're coming with me."

"I am?" Bellatrix gasped, and he nodded as he touched his lips to her forehead. He smirked at her.

"His name is Morton Mills, and we're going to leave him without any limbs outside the school grounds. Let Dumbledore see that the curses I case stain and wound more than anything he could ever bring himself to do."

Bellatrix studied Voldemort's face so closely that for a moment, he was a little nervous about what she'd say. It didn't matter what she'd say; his orders were final. But she finally touched her forehead to his and whispered,

"I adore you, My Lord. Every single part of you. And I look forward to serving you again."

"I'm staying here," Voldemort said simply, looking around the humble little bedroom. He gulped, realising he did not want to go back home alone just now. He huffed a sigh and told her, "Tomorrow night, I want you in Cornwall."

"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix said, and he kissed her hair as he murmured,

"Goodnight, Bella."


	6. Chapter 6

Bellatrix was confused. She'd been Summoned through her Dark Mark, and when she'd answered the call, she'd found herself outside Lord Voldemort's stately home in Cornwall. There was a meeting at Malfoy Manor scheduled to begin in a half hour's time, so she was baffled as to why he'd brought her here.

Over the last week, they'd spent two nights together - the one in her flat and another here in Cornwall. But she hadn't seen him in five days, for she'd been in Scotland torturing an accomplice of Dumbledore's. Now she stood outside Voldemort's home, and as she raised her hand to knock, the door swung open, and he stood there looking drawn and tired.

"We have a serious problem," he said, stepping outside onto the lawn. Bellatrix backed up and blinked, and before she could ask what the matter was, Voldemort pulled his wand out and shrugged. "My magic is gone again. Gone. Entirely gone."

Bellatrix gasped. "Master… how can that be? You called me through my Mark; I -"

"Calling you through your Mark is the only magic I have been able to perform in the last forty-eight hours," he said sharply, "and I'm not entirely certain why that worked when nothing else will. It doesn't matter. It seems there was more to Dumbledore's curse than I gave him credit for. I can't afford these ebbs and flows. There is a meeting at the Manor in a half hour, and I mean to be there."

Bellatrix nodded. "No one can know."

"No one can know," he agreed. "I shall get to the bottom of this; I shall read every book in England until I find a permanent cure for what Dumbledore did to me. But in the interim, Bella… I require your assistance."

"Anything, My Lord," she breathed. "Anything at all."

He shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. "I will need you to take me to Malfoy Manor, obviously. I'll then set everyone to tasks that will keep them occupied for a few weeks. And then we're going to lie. We're going to say I'm going on a covert mission to the Continent and that you're coming with me."

"But we'll be here," Bellatrix guessed, and Voldemort nodded once.

"I need you to help me get my magic back, Bellatrix. I can be their general for only so long; they know me as a soldier leading a pack. I must be able to fight, to impress with my power. I need my magic to flow securely in my veins."

"We'll read every book in England," she promised him, echoing his words from earlier. Voldemort looked very irritated then, picking at a leaf on the vine growing alongside his doorway.

"Bloody Albus Dumbledore," he muttered. "Awful old fool. I will kill him myself."

"I await that day," Bellatrix said quietly. "My Lord, that day will be bliss."

"We need to go," he said shortly. "After the meeting, you'll bring me back here and then you can go to your flat and pack up belongings. I suppose we could stay in London, but it's more comfortable here."

"We shall stay wherever you like, Master," Bellatrix told him firmly, and he dragged the pad of his thumb over his lip as he informed her,

"I must tell you that your discretion and loyalty are invaluable to me just now. I… need you, Bellatrix, and I know that I can rely on you."

"Of course you can, My Lord." Bellatrix reached up for his face, noticing the little bit of scruff that had grown out over the last few days. He covered her hand with his and said again,

"We need to go."

Bellatrix nodded, squeezed her fingers around his, and Disapparated. When they came to, they were outside the Apparition Point at Malfoy Manor, and Voldemort swayed a little where he stood. He gagged quietly, and Bellatrix surreptitiously aimed her wand at him and cast a nonverbal anti-nausea charm.

"Thank you," he whispered, touching his fingertips to his forehead. He steadied himself and held his wand at the ready as if he possessed the ability to battle an unseen enemy. He strode through the gates and up to the doors, and he murmured to Bellatrix, "Open them."

She said nothing; she just flicked her wand at the enormous brass handles and thought,  _Abroportus_. The mighty doors swung open, and once there was enough space to pass through, Bellatrix followed Voldemort inside. He pattered quickly up the steps and strode like a wraith down the corridor toward the dining room. This time, they were the first ones present except for Abraxas Malfoy, who bowed low and asked,

"My Lord… Miss Black. Is there any refreshment I might get you?"

"This meeting will be efficient, Malfoy. No need for drinks. Sit down." Voldemort walked quickly into the dining room and sat, tucking his wand away and staring silently at the wood grain on the table. Bellatrix sat in silence beside him, and Malfoy sat a ways down. People started to arrive and filter in, but everyone seemed to pick up on the prescribed quiet in the space. Once every seat at the table was filled, Voldemort raised his eyes and said brusquely,

"I shall be leaving England for a covert mission on the Continent. Miss Black will be accompanying me. I will not be available, even in the case of an emergency, until I return. Anyone who seeks further detail about my mission will be on the receiving end of a Cruciatus Curse. Am I well and truly understood?"

"Yes, Master," they murmured one by one, everyone looking a little afraid. Voldemort blinked and started going around the table.

"Rodolphus Lestrange. Work with Rookwood to establish better spy operations in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. You've just started there; I expect you to be useful."

"Yes, My Lord," Rodolphus nodded. Voldemort flicked his eyes over and said,

"Yaxley and Malfoy. I want those six Ministry officials Imperiused by the time I return. Use whatever help you must to achieve the goal."

"I vow it will be done, My Lord," Malfoy promised, and Voldemort nodded crisply.

"Mulciber. Nott. Avery. The first Hogsmeade trip of the school year is in two weeks' time. You are to intercept a student by the name of Morton Mills. He is a Mudblood Gryffindor, a seventh-year with aspirations of joining Dumbledore's little gang."

A low hiss went around the table, and Voldemort waited before he commanded,

"The three of you will kidnap Morton Mills on the Hogsmeade trip. You will sever and Vanish all four of his limbs and cauterise the stumps. You will leave him sobbing on Dumbledore's doorstep. Disguise yourselves but inform the boy that you are working at the behest of the Dark Lord. Am I understood?"

"Understood, Master," Avery nodded. "Your will shall be done."

Voldemort waited then, letting a pregnant silence fall over the room once more. He turned at last to Antonin Dolohov and said quietly,

"Arthur and Molly Weasley are allies of Dumbledore. They are expecting their first child in November, according to Rookwood's information. Track down the witch and kill the child."

Antonin Dolohov bowed his head and looked intimidated by the orders. Voldemort cleared his throat and said,

"Well. I think we all have quite a lot to occupy us for the time being, then. Questions? No? Good. Talk amongst yourselves to work out logistics. Bella, come."

He barked those last two words at her as though she were his dog. Bellatrix didn't want to appear overly familiar in front of the others, so she rose and hunched her shoulders as she scampered behind Voldemort like a mouse. She stayed three steps behind him all the way down the corridor and stairs, and even out through the gardens. Once they reached the Apparition Point, she stood up a little straighter and told him,

"None of them are the wiser, My Lord. I could tell."

"So could I. Give me your hand." Voldemort reached for her fingers, and Bellatrix Disapparated as quickly as she could in case someone was watching. They reappeared outside the house in Cornwall, and in their absence, a great wind had picked up. The trees beside the house were swaying a little, and in the distance, Bellatrix could see the waves on the grey sea crashing and curling. She hurried inside after Voldemort and asked him,

"Shall I cook dinner, Master?"

"Yes," he said simply. "I went for groceries at the Muggle shop earlier today. The kitchen's full."

He stayed in the parlour as she made her way into the kitchen. She rummaged about until she found the flour and salt and other ingredients she needed for a pie crust. She took out the minced lamb she found in the refrigerator, and soon enough she was using her wand to whip up Scotch pies. She poached some eggs to serve over them, along with baked beans in tomato sauce. She put two little pies on each plate and poured them some rich red wine, and she put it all on a tray. She carried the tray out to find Voldemort already sitting at the dining room table, and when she put the plate in front of him, he scoffed a little.

"I would have thought a girl like you would have grown up with a House-Elf to cook for you."

"I did," Bellatrix nodded. "I enjoy cooking."

"I'm famished," Voldemort admitted. "All I had earlier was a hunk of cheese. I was too enraged to eat anything else."

"My Lord… if I may ask, when did your magic disappear again?" Bellatrix sat down and Banished the tray back to the kitchen. She poked at her poached egg until the yolk came running out all over her pie, and she listened as Voldemort told her,

"Day before yesterday, I woke up… I tried to shave my face. Nothing. I tries to Scour my teeth. Nothing. Tried to shatter the windows, to whip up the sea. Nothing. I couldn't even Levitate a pillow. A damned first-year spell. It was all gone. I tried to call you through the Mark. Nothing. Veles was gone; he didn't fly back until yesterday. I thought of writing you in London to Summon you here, but… I waited. I hoped it would return."

"You called me through the Mark earlier," Bellatrix reminded him, taking a bite of her Scotch pie, and he nodded.

"Doing that felt like someone had pulled the life straight out of me. And when I tried to use magic again afterward, I fell to my knees and couldn't stand for five minutes."

So that was why he'd looked so drawn and weary earlier. Bellatrix pinched her lips and stared out the window.

"What about a Draining?" She was almost afraid to ask about it, for it was something she'd only learnt in seventh-year Defence Against the Dark Arts. A Draining was an act of supremely Dark magic, in which a witch or wizard used complex spells to steal the magical abilities of another.

"It's only used to augment power, not replace it," Voldemort reminded her, shaking his head. "How am I to cast the spells?"

That was a good point, but Bellatrix pointed out,

"It can be done in reverse. Draining oneself to pour the magic into another. Just like the story of the witch who birthed a Squib and Drained herself to give her son magical ability. Remember, My Lord?"

"Yes, I know the story," he snapped, "but even under the Imperius Curse, you're not going to be able to coordinate some random Mudblood Draining themselves properly, and -"

"What if I did it?" Bellatrix asked the question without thinking, and Voldemort looked at her like she'd gone utterly mad.

"I am not going to Drain you," he whispered, stuffing three bites in a row of his Scotch pie into his mouth. Bellatrix finally told him,

"I am your servant. Your slave. If I do not live for you, I live for nothing at all. I will gladly go through this world without magic for you, Master. I would die for you, a thousand times over. Please, I beg you… let me give you my magic."

"No." He kept on eating, swigging at his wine and slamming the glass down so hard Bellatrix thought it might break. He shook his head vehemently and said again, "I am not going to Drain you."

"Why not?" Bellatrix asked impulsively, and he glared at her with such danger in his dark eyes that she cowered in her seat. He leaned toward her a little and hissed,

"I am the Dark Lord Voldemort. I owe you no explanations whatsoever. I am not going to Drain you. Mention it again and you will be severely punished."

"I'm sorry, Master." Bellatrix stared at her mostly uneaten food, feeling abruptly bereft of an appetite. She nervously drank some wine and studied his face, the way his eyes were coursing all over her. He shrugged at last and said in an odd tone,

"I care far too much about you to do such a thing. Do you not understand that?"

"I suppose not," Bellatrix said, "but I beg you to know that I offer myself so completely only because I am so devoted to you."

He touched his napkin to his lips. "I know. But I am not going to Drain you, Bellatrix, because… because I can not. I simply can not. There must be another solution. I refuse to accept that as a solution; we will find a better answer. If anyone is Drained, it will be a Mudblood. We'll just do our best Imperiusing someone, even though the spells are complex. It's… I will… Bella."

He reached quickly across the table and seized her hand, and his fingers shook around his as his eyes blazed.

"You're staying here with me."

"I am," she nodded, curling her fingers until they laced with his. His throat bobbed, and he said,

"I do not wish for you to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere, Master," Bellatrix assured him, "unless you bid me do it."

"Good girl," he nodded, pulling his hand back. "What a good little creature you are. These pies are delicious."

* * *

Voldemort's eyes sprang open, and he tried to catch his breath.

He'd dreamed that he'd been in a cave, weak and alone, crumpled up in a ball with no magic to protect him. A swarm of enemies had come in and hit him with spell after spell… hexes to peel his flesh from his bones and to slice open his organs. He'd been bleeding, dying, and Dumbledore had rushed in to save him, only to insist that Voldemort could be powerful again if he would only surrender his ambition.

Now Voldemort stared at his bedroom wall and tried to calm his thumping heart. He shifted a little, which seemed to rouse Bellatrix beside him, and he heard her ask in a gravelly voice,

"My Lord? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," he lied, wondering if she'd been right about performing a Draining. If he could train her hard enough, perhaps she could capture and Imperius a Mudblood into doing it.

He rolled over and stared at her for a moment. She was so young, only eighteen, and though she was talented, she had minimal experience with Unforgivables. Voldemort watched her blink open her eyes and stare earnestly up at him, and he told her,

"I'm going to write to Malfoy and demand a comprehensive list of Mudbloods in Cornwall. Then you're going to disable one, capture him and bring him here, and you will force him to Drain himself. Just like in the story."

Bellatrix looked amazed, but she nodded and noted,

"I will need to practise Imperiusing, My Lord. I'm not very good."

"There are plenty of sea gulls to coerce into all manner of strange flight patterns," Voldemort told her. He tipped his head against his pillow then and reached to tuck Bellatrix's hair. "Birds' minds aren't like human minds. You shall need to practise on me."

She looked shocked at that, but he insisted,

"It'll take a few days for Malfoy to get me that list. You'll have plenty of time."

"I'm not worried about time," she whispered. She shook her head a bit and told him, "I can't boss you about. You're my master."

"And I'm instructing you to practise your Imperius Curse skills, Bellatrix. Do you mean to disobey me?" Voldemort sat up a little, and Bellatrix shook her head wildly. Suddenly Voldemort had an idea, and he flicked his eyes to Bellatrix's wand on the nightstand. "Go on, then. Let's practise."

"Now? I mean… now, My Lord?" Bellatrix reached for her wand but seemed utterly shocked, and Voldemort smirked.

"I should like to be physical with you," he told her, "and I fully consent to any act you might think up. So… go on. Think something up. Do it, Bellatrix."

" _Imperio_ ," she whispered, her voice shaking. Even without his magic, he quickly pushed through her spell, and shook his head.

"Mean it," he commanded her. Bellatrix nodded once, sat up straighter, and barked,

" _Imperio_!" Green smoke puffed from her wand and wrapped around Voldemort's face. He felt then as if he were floating, as if her voice were coming from underwater.

"Go get in the shower, My Lord," he heard her say, and he felt an internal force dragging him out of the bed. Someone else was making his feet walk. Even if it had occurred to him to resist, he wouldn't have been able to do so. He felt more than he heard the command then as Bellatrix willed him to take his clothes off first, and he stripped his pyjama trousers and underwear off. He left them in a pile on the bathroom floor, and his hand moved to open the glass shower door.

He stepped into the black tile and turned on the taps, thinking distantly that the water was cold. He adjusted them until it was just hot water, under which he stood in silence, waiting. She hadn't given him any other commands, and he didn't feel like doing anything else.

Suddenly she was there, naked and beautiful, stepping into the shower with him and aiming her wand at him as she whispered again,

" _Imperio_."

He wanted to tell her that she didn't need to do that, that her spell had stuck and that she was doing a very good job, but his lips wouldn't move correctly. He shut his eyes against the thud of her commanding thoughts, and she murmured,

"Touch me, Master."

"Where?" He needed more information, but as he opened his eyes, Bellatrix's cheeks went pink, and she turned around and backed up against him. She pulled his left hand to her breast, slick beneath the water, and his right hand went between her legs.

"Touch me," she said again. Voldemort's hands moved quite of their own accord then. Or, rather, they moved because she had willed it so. He was flicking at her nipple and pawing at the soft, pillowy flesh of her round breast. He was fiddling with her clit and pressing two fingers into her entrance. She liked it. He could tell by the way she tipped her head back and almost dropped her wand. Voldemort bent to kiss her neck a little. This was touching, too, wasn't it? Or perhaps it was simply that he didn't need her permission for this. He decided to see what he could do without her permission then, as his cock grew hard against her back.

He moved her up onto the tile seat that was built into the shower, encouraging her to kneel facing away from him. He kept touching her, just like she'd commanded him to do, but he edged her legs apart and tipped her forward a little.

"Fuck me, My Lord," she whispered, and Voldemort couldn't find it in himself to be scandalised or amused by her word choice. All he could do was obey. He pushed himself into her with one smooth thrust, cycling his hips as his own back arched a little. He heard his voice echo off the tiles with a little groan. It mingled with Bellatrix's; she was moaning desperately and slapped the tile as she insisted,

"Faster. Do it faster."

He did as she said. He had no choice. He fucked her more vigorously than he'd ever done, jerking his hips and holding onto her waist for support. He didn't want her to fall. The water streamed over the both of them, which felt supremely erotic. Bellatrix shrieked a bit as she came. Her hands groped at the wall and her hair fell around her face in clumpy wet tendrils. She turned her face and looked uncertain as she told him,

"Finish. Now. Finish hard."

He did, his body completely beyond his control. Voldemort wrenched his eyes shut as he came inside of her, his seed pumping for much longer than usual. Some distant part of his brain marveled at the fact that she'd been able to coerce him into an on-demand climax, but ultimately it just seemed sexy.

Bellatrix slithered out from beneath Voldemort and rinsed herself off, washing away the evidence of what he'd done to her. Voldemort just stared, observing with wonder the beauty of her form. Bellatrix finally whispered,

"Tell me what you think of me. Master."

"I think you are magnificent," he said automatically. He hadn't thought about it, but he knew at once that it was the truth. More words spilled forth without a thought. "I think you are beautiful. I think you're funny and very good company. You're intelligent and shrewd. You're not afraid of battle. You are devoted to me. I think that I…"

Something cracked then. Her spell was breaking down. His mind was reeling, pushing hard against the way he was talking. He gulped hard, and Bellatrix's eyes were frightened as she asked him,

"Tell me… do you like me better than the others?"

"Of course I do," Voldemort nodded. "You're more than they could ever dream of being, and I… I…"

_NO!_ Something inside of him shrieked.  _Don't_   _tell her!_

"Tell me," she said, touching her hands to his wet chest. Voldemort brought her knuckles to his lips and shut his eyes.

"I feel things toward you that I have never felt toward another human. I care very deeply for you. More deeply than I'd thought possible. I want you all the time. I want you to be near me for simple things like meals and reading. I want you sleeping beside me. I want your body. I was very jealous when I realised that Rodolphus Lestrange thinks himself in love with you. I felt a coil of envy, of… possession. I want to possess you, in a different way than I possess the others."

Bellatrix's brows furrowed a little, and she shivered where she stood outside the hot water. Voldemort moved them about until she was under the water and he was cold. Bellatrix reached for her wand off the chair in the shower and brushed it down Voldemort's arm, making him shiver.

" _Finite_   _Incantatem_ ," she said. Voldemort felt clear-headed again, though he remembered everything.

"Are you very angry with me, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked him, and he just shook his head. He took her face in his hands as the water started to go chilly. He touched his lips to hers and mumbled,

"It's late. Back to bed with us both, Miss Black."

She nodded firmly. "Yes, Master."


	7. Chapter 7

"Eldon Turner?"

The Mudblood whirled round at the sound of his name, glancing around the quiet street in Penzance. His eyes finally settled on Bellatrix, and he asked carefully,

"May I help you?"

"Are you Eldon Turner?" Bellatrix asked again, and the man nodded once. Bellatrix whipped her wand out and quickly incanted, " _Expelliarmus_."

A thin wand of pale wood came whizzing from Eldon Turner's jacket, and Bellatrix deftly caught it. She used her left hand to tuck it away, and she dashed forward to grab hold of Turner's jacket sleeve. Eldon Turner's eyes blazed with confused fear for a half second, and then Bellatrix Disapparated with him in tow.

The pinching, whirling sensation almost hurt, mostly because Eldon Turner was fighting it for the entire moment of travel. But it was no use; Bellatrix was exceptionally good at Apparition and landed with him outside Lord Voldemort's house.

" _Imperio_."

Bellatrix's spell washed over Eldon Turner in a haze of green smoke. She'd practised several times with the Dark Lord now, and she'd become skilled enough that her Imperius Curse visibly rattled the Mudblood she'd kidnapped. They'd chosen him off a list because his disappearance would go unnoticed for at least a little while. He lived alone, unmarried with deceased Muggle parents, and he was a scholar of wandlore currently working on a book about walnut trees in magic.

Now he was none of that. He wasn't a bachelor or a writer. He was just a source of magical power, a battery of sorts to kickstart the Dark Lord back into full functionality.

"Follow me," Bellatrix commanded, walking with a purpose up to the front door of the house. Eldon Turner followed her obediently, his eyes looking a little glazed. Bellatrix opened the door and strolled into the parlour, where the Dark Lord stood waiting. Voldemort smiled a little as he caressed his own wand.

"Well done, Bella," he said softly. "Mr Turner. Thank you for coming today."

"You're… you're him. Lord… He Who Must Not Be Named! It's you!" Eldon Turner seemed utterly horrified, and Bellatrix couldn't help but giggle. Voldemort smirked and took a step toward Eldon Turner.

"Yes. It is I…  _He Who Must Not Be Named_. But you needn't worry, Mr Turner. You won't live long enough to tell anyone about me."

"Stay," Bellatrix barked then, because Turner had tried to dash out toward the front door of the house. He skidded to a halt and whirled around, going back to Bellatrix's side. His eyes were wide with terror, and Bellatrix asked, "My Lord, shall we begin?"

"Let me sit," Voldemort said, sounding slightly unnerved all of a sudden. He sank down into one of the leather armchairs and nodded. Bellatrix cleared her throat and handed Eldon Turner his wand. She mentally willed Turner to begin chanting the spells that she'd memorised, the ones they'd found in the book in the library. These were the Draining Spells, the ancient words to give or take power forever.

" _Dabo tibi Fortamia Magica… Lord Voldemort, dabo tibi Fortamia Magica…_ "

Eldon Turner's wand seemed to be pulling light and life straight out of him. Blurred colours whirled through the air, drawn from his flesh and pulled into the wand. That was translated into a thin silver beam that centred on Voldemort's heart and pulsed. Bellatrix was entranced for a moment, but then she focused on commanding Turner to continue.

"Lord Voldemort," whispered Turner, " _dabo tibi Fortamia Magica. Dabo tibi Fortamia Magica._ "

He seemed weaker by the moment, his hand shaking ferociously as the silver light grew a little brighter and thumped along with Voldemort's heartbeat. Voldemort eyed Bellatrix and nodded solemnly. It was working. Suddenly the silver light cut off from Turner's wand and slipped straight into Voldemort's chest. Turner stopped whispering spells then, his hand dropping and his wand clattering to the ground. His lips had gone pale, and he murmured,

"I am empty."

"And, thus, I am no longer empty," Voldemort nodded. Then he rose from his chair, seeming very energetic indeed. He held his right hand out toward Eldon Turner, his palm flat in the air, and he snarled, " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Wandless magic was always impressive. Most wizards would never be able to accomplish so much as a simple levitation spell without a wand. For nearly every witch and wizard, wands were essential for channeling magic properly. To perform an Unforgivable Curse without a wand was unheard of. It was utterly shocking, therefore, for Bellatrix to see a flash of green light and for Eldon Turner to crumple to the ground, dead.

Voldemort laughed under his breath and wandlessly, nonverbally Summoned Turner's wand. He held it and stared at it for a moment, then he snapped it in half and tossed the pieces into the air. He Vanished them, again without a wand, and then quickly Vanished Turner's body.

It all happened so fast that Bellatrix could scarcely soak in what it meant. Her lord and master was more powerful than ever. The air around him seemed to crackle with magic, and as he stepped toward her, his eyes were glittering.

"Do you trust me?" His voice was dangerous then. Bellatrix gulped and nodded.

"Yes, Master. Of course I trust you."

"Then come flying with me," he said breathlessly. Bellatrix frowned and shook her head.

"I'm not very good on a broomstick, My Lord, but I'll -"

"No." He took her face in his hands and touched his lips to hers. She felt a buzz, a vibration from his mouth into hers, and then he whispered again, "Come flying with me."

He seized her hand and dragged her out of the parlour, out the front door and down the little steps that led up to the house. He held her as though they were dancing, one arm going behind her back and the other threading his fingers through hers.

"Hold fast to me," he commanded her, and Bellatrix felt a surge of confusion. Then, very suddenly, she was off the ground. Her stomach lurched and she screamed a little as they soared upward. She found herself instinctively wrapping her legs around Voldemort's waist and holding onto him for dear life, but he didn't seem to mind. He seemed quite confident as he moved quickly through the air, as though an invisible broom was beneath him.

"You can fly?" Bellatrix shouted in disbelief. He smirked at her and tipped his head as they soared on down toward the sea.

"Yes, Wendy," he said. "Peter Pan can fly."

She didn't get the reference, and it did seem like he was referencing something. But she couldn't focus on her confusion now. She was afraid, and mesmerised, and awestruck and in love.

She realised that last bit too late, for he was inside her mind with Legilimency. She felt a little zap of his attention in her brain when she thought of him like that. He stopped flying and joked,

"You're holding onto me like a cat who's being threatened with water."

"Well," Bellatrix said, staring down at the turquoise sea and the rugged beach, "I'm not a cat, but I am being threatened with water."

"There isn't any threat." Voldemort cocked up an eyebrow and reached to cup Bellatrix's jaw. He kissed her lips carefully and noted, "It worked."

The Draining, he meant. Bellatrix chuckled, feeling frigid up this high, and she nodded.

"Yes, My Lord. Judging by the way you executed him wandlessly and are now flying above the ocean, I would say that it worked."

"Are you frightened?" Voldemort asked. Bellatrix didn't know exactly what he meant. Was she frightened of him? Of the height at which they'd parked themselves? Was she? No. She wasn't.

"I'm not afraid," she told him, and he nodded.

"Good, brave little creature." He tilted his body, and they started moving again as though they were flying with brooms. Over the waves they soared, and then down, down toward the house. They landed on the decking that overlooked the beach, and once her feet touched the wood, Bellatrix choked out a nervous laugh and said,

"Well. That's better than the stairs."

"You're in love with me." Voldemort took a half step back from Bellatrix and straightened his robes. Her lips fell open and her throat went tight as she shook her head and insisted,

"It was an impulsive thought, Master."

"But a genuine one," he nodded knowingly. "You feel even more strongly about me than Rodolphus Lestrange feels about you."

"Oh, My Lord." Bellatrix stared out toward the ocean, feeling her eyes burn. Did she love him? Of course she did. Over these last weeks, she couldn't help but fall in love with him. She shut her eyes and asked, "Will I be punished?"

"No," he said simply. Bellatrix felt relief wash over her. Then she felt him come up behind her and wrap his arms around her abdomen. He stroked at her rib cage and bent to kiss her cheek, and he whispered, "You did well, Bella. Getting him for me. Imperiusing him. You served me very well today."

"The best birthday gift I could want, My Lord," Bellatrix grinned. His hands froze then, and for a moment, all Bellatrix could feel was her own heartbeat thumping in her ears. She turned round slowly to see him staring down at her, wide-eyed with an emotion she couldn't quite pin down. She smirked and said,

"You didn't know, did you, Master?"

"Today?" He sounded horrified, and Bellatrix nodded.

"Yes, My Lord. I'm nineteen years old today."

"Why didn't you… why did you not mention it?" He tipped his chin up and seemed irritated all of a sudden. Bellatrix shrugged and said,

"Today was the day we'd agreed upon for capturing the Mudblood, for Draining him… that seemed far more important than a silly little birthday."

"Silly little…" Voldemort huffed a breath out, and his throat bobbed. His featured hardened, and he commanded Bellatrix, "You stay here."

He turned to go into the house, and Bellatrix panicked. Was she in trouble? It seemed as though she was in trouble.

"My Lord? Where are you going?" She never would have dared to ask him such a question when she'd first come here, but things were different now. He glared at her over his shoulder and said,

"I am perfectly capable of utilising magical cookbooks, Miss Black, and you must have a cake. Stay out here."

He slammed the door shut behind him, and Bellatrix felt her lips curl up a little as she whispered,

"Yes, Master."

* * *

_To complete the baking process, incant the spell 'Cocquo' and hold the wand steady for thirty seconds. To spread the icing over the cake, Levitate the completed icing made in Step Four and utilize Smoothing Charms, or complete by hand with a spatula for a more rustic finish. To decorate the cake, you can use coloured icing and drag about the cake with your wand as desired._

Lord Voldemort glared at the cookbook. This particular one was loose with its instructions and seemed made for either old witches accustomed to frequent baking or imbeciles whose finished product would be inedible. Voldemort was neither of those things, but somehow he'd managed to make a three-layer round vanilla cake that was currently on a stand before him. He stared at the little bowl of dark green frosting he'd whipped up, and he nonverbally turned it into a floating ribbon on the air.

He brought the frosting down onto the cake and worked carefully but quickly. He spelled out  _Happy birthday, Bella_  and then wondered if he ought to add the last four letters of her name. He decided against it and Vanished the leftover frosting, Scouring the bowls and Banishing them into the cupboards. He sent the cake floating toward the dining room table, and he worked efficiently to get china plates and napkins out and set. He poured two glasses of white wine and sent them over to the table, and then he stalked to the door that led to the decking.

Bellatrix flew to her feet as soon as he walked outside, and she bowed her head as she told him,

"My Lord. I was just thinking about how very happy I am to see you at your full strength again."

"Thank you," Voldemort nodded crisply. He stared at her for a moment and tried to figure out why he'd baked her a cake. This was not a gesture he would have ever extended toward anyone else, so it was almost mind-boggling to do it now. And, yet, it felt strangely ordinary and even inevitable. It was her birthday. There was need of a cake.

"You may come inside now," he told her, and Bellatrix followed him back into the house. Her eyes settled on the dining-room table, and all of a sudden tears had formed in her gaze. She seemed to be struggling for words, so Voldemort tried to break the tension by informing her,

"If it's no good, I won't take offence. You needn't eat it if you -"

"I'm sure it's just fine, Master," Bellatrix nodded. She walked quickly to the table, and Voldemort used his wand to pull her chair out. He pushed her back in and then sat, Conjuring nineteen little candles and lighting them all with a flourish. He smirked at Bellatrix through the glow of the candlelight and asked,

"Shall I sing?"

Her lips fell open a little, and she whispered,

"Only if you want to."

He didn't even feel silly then as he sang in a low, slow voice, " _Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…"_

Her lips curled up at the sound of him singing, so he laughed a little and finished,

_"Happy birthday, dear Bellatrix. Happy birthday to you."_

"You must stay out of my head for my wish," she teased him then. "They're meant to be secret."

"I'm not in your head," he assured her honestly. Bellatrix shut her eyes then, her fingers gripping the edge of the table, and she blew out all her candles. One by one, Voldemort Vanished them, smoothing over the frosting atop the cake. He used his wand to sever and dish out a slice to Bellatrix and one to himself, and he waited for her to take a bite.

When she did, the sound she made was so sensual that Voldemort's cock twitched unexpectedly. She looked so beautiful with her wind-kissed cheeks and her happy little smile, and Voldemort found himself asking meekly,

"Well? Is it all right?"

"It is perfect, My Lord." Bellatrix sipped from her wine and then grinned. "Thank you."

"Well. Think of it as a dual celebration. Your birthday and me getting my strength back. I only wish you'd told me, Bella… I wish you'd given me time to procure a proper gift for you."

"A gift?" She looked genuinely surprised by that, and she shook her head as she told him, "My Lord, I would never need a gift from you. Being in your presence is the greatest -"

"Stop. Please stop." Voldemort set his fork down and folded his hands, touching his forehead to his knuckles. He looked up to see Bellatrix confused, and he shrugged as he told her, "I know you worship me; you needn't say things like that."

"Things like what, Master?" Bellatrix seemed a little afraid now, so Voldemort shifted in his chair and tried to keep his voice calm and easy.

"Telling me that my presence is greater for you than a birthday gift. Things like that."

"I'm sorry if I've upset you, My Lord," Bellatrix said, setting down her own fork. "I meant it; I wasn't just making things up."

"I know," he nodded. "I know how you feel about me as your master, as a man. I know. But I would have very much liked to have time to get you a proper birthday gift, Bellatrix, because you deserve one. Not just because you're a fine servant - which you are - but because… because I…"

She nodded, and he tried as hard as he could to keep the words contained in his mouth. He didn't love her. It hadn't been long enough yet to fall in love in the first place, and he wasn't even capable of such a thing. He'd decided that a very long time ago. Love was not something with which he could be bothered. It was not a priority; it was not a sensation in which his soul could engage. He was confident of that. But he felt something real, something visceral and powerful for Bellatrix, and suddenly he told her,

"I want you to move permanently from your flat in London. End your lease. I want to you live here, with me. Permanently."

Bellatrix looked shocked. She glanced down at the cake he'd made and just nodded a little as she whispered,

"All right."

"Bella?" His voice cracked a bit, which ought to have embarrassed him but didn't. Her eyes were dark and wide and very, very pretty then as he told her, "I'll cast a Preserving Charm on the cake. Go upstairs and wait for me in the bed."

"Clothes?" She dragged her finger around the rim of her wine glass, and Voldemort just shook his head.

"No clothes. Go."

"Yes, Master. Thank you for the cake." Bellatrix obediently rose and walked away, leaving her mostly-uneaten cake behind. Voldemort Preserved all the cake on the table to keep it from drying out, realising that this was hardly the first time he'd sent her upstairs for sex from the table. But she would always obey, because she was so very obedient all the way to her core.

And she wanted him. He could tell that every time he touched her; she came alive beneath his fingers. Voldemort put his knuckles to his forehead and rubbed again, feeling the thrum of his recovered magic in his veins. He pushed his chair back and rose, clearing his throat almost formally as he made his way up the stairs.

She was there in the bed, lying obediently on the covers. He said nothing as he stripped; he just folded his clothes and set them aside, and then he climbed up onto his side of the bed. He faced Bellatrix and ran his fingers from her breast down over her rib cage and hip. Her breath hitched a little, and Voldemort started to harden. He kept touching her, his fingers gliding down her arm and around her chest, over her flat stomach and teasing her between her thighs.

Neither of them said anything when she reached between them and took his half-hard cock in her hand. She started to play with his tip, to rub at his length a little, and Voldemort sighed happily. He rolled Bellatrix until she was on her back, and she wrapped her legs around him dutifully. He pushed slowly into her, grunting at the feel of her snug, wet warmth. He began to push and pull, to fill her slowly and deeply. Every thrust was smooth and purposeful, and it felt so good that Voldemort got dizzy. He bent to kiss Bellatrix and tasted sugar on her, the sugar he'd used to bake her a cake. It seemed silly when he thought about it like that, but it didn't taste silly.

The silence between them felt right, for some reason. There was no reason to talk right now, no use for words. He just kissed her, then touched his lips to her neck and let his breath caress her skin. Her hands rubbed at his back as he cycled his hips. He tried to grind against her the way she liked, and after a long time, her head tipped back a little and she whimpered softly through an easy and subtle climax. The sight of her, flushed and breathless with her eyes fluttered shut, was enough to finish Voldemort off. He kissed her through his own finale, feeling himself twitch and jolt a bit inside of her.

He rolled to the side and then onto his back, and Bellatrix curled up beside him. It was the middle of the day, but here they were, quiet in bed, and Voldemort had no inclination at all to move. Finally Bellatrix kissed at his chest and asked him,

"Can we go finish that cake?"

He scoffed a little and nodded, remembering the sight of her as she Imperiused their victim into giving Voldemort magic again. She was so much, he thought suddenly, and that dangerous word edged its way back toward his consciousness again. He swallowed hard and whispered,

"Happy birthday, Bella."

She kissed his skin again and murmured, "Thank you, My Lord."


	8. Chapter 8

"Sit. We have much to discuss."

Bellatrix sat at her master's command, and so did the rest of the Death Eaters in attendance at Malfoy Manor. She was a few seats down from him today, because they'd come separately. It wouldn't do, he'd said, for his other followers to think he had a favourite. Bellatrix still didn't know if she was his favourite, or what exactly she was to him, if anything. She did know that the night before, she'd fallen asleep curled up beside him, and she'd woken this morning to the feel of his lips on her forehead.

Now she half paid attention as Lord Voldemort discussed everyone's ongoing missions with them. At present, he was grilling Avery on what had happened in Hogsmeade.

"Morton Mills was easy enough to kidnap, Master," Avery said.

"And you Transfigured your features?" Voldemort asked, cocking up a dark brow. Avery nodded quickly and asserted,

"Nobody recognised us, My Lord. Mulciber Transfigured me, I Transfigured Nott, and we all wound up looking entirely different. We lured Mills into an alley by asking for help."

"Help," Voldemort smirked. "Damned Gryffindor. I'm sure he wanted to help you."

"He was eager enough, Master," Nott said. "We set up a barrier in the alley to distract any passers-by. We Silenced Mills so his screams wouldn't alert anyone, and we immobilised him to make the process easier for us."

"When you severed his limbs," Voldemort asked, "what did you do with them?"

"We Vanished them, My Lord," said Mulciber, "and then we cauterised the stumps so he wouldn't bleed out. We Levitated and Disillusioned him and deposited him outside the gates of Hogwarts."

Voldemort nodded. "And the Dark Mark?"

"Was cast into the sky just before we Disapparated," Avery said. Voldemort seemed pleased, but he wasn't one to heap praise upon anyone. Bellatrix watched as Voldemort looked around the table and said,

"We need more attacks like this one. They'll unnerve Dumbledore. They'll keep the Ministry occupied. Attacks on Muggles, Mudbloods. Allies of Dumbledore. We create our own chaos. Lestrange."

Rodolphus jolted at the sound of his name, and he sat up straighter in his chair. Bellatrix studied his face, the round softness that contrasted so heavily with Voldemort's sharp features. Rodolphus looked like a child here among these older men, and for the first time, Bellatrix realised she was the only witch in the room. She and Rodolphus were the youngest by at least seven or eight years. She flashed him a tiny smile when his eyes went to her, but he turned his attention back to Voldemort.

"I instructed you to begin spying well for me in the Department of Magical Games and Sports," Voldemort reminded Rodolphus. The younger wizard nodded and glanced to Rookwood. Then he said,

"Master, I have been reporting to Augustus Rookwood. I have been doing my best to obtain useful information."

"Yes. And now, thanks to you, we know to avoid upcoming Quidditch matches," Voldemort nodded. "Ministry traps, as you told Rookwood."

"I believe so, Master," Rodolphus nodded. "Anyone they directly suspect of being a Death Eater… they plan to publicly arrest us at Quidditch matches and take us to the Ministry for questioning."

"And who do they suspect of being a Death Eater?" Voldemort asked. Rodolphus' cheeks went a little red, and he admitted,

"I'm not privy to that information, My Lord."

"Master, the only ones among us whom the Ministry suspects are Travers, Avery, and… myself," said Rookwood. "But they have no hard evidence against any one of us now."

"Then we must be careful. We can not afford for our ranks to be shipped off to Azkaban," Voldemort said. He sighed and cleared his throat. "Mulciber, Avery, and Nott. You did well in Hogsmeade. Find some Muggles and make a scene. Everyone else, continue work as usual. Dismissed."

Bellatrix rose with the others, knowing that she wasn't supposed to stay too close to Voldemort just now. They'd meet up at his house in Cornwall, but here at the Manor, they were separate entities.

"Bellatrix?"

She turned halfway down the corridor at the sound of her name and saw Rodolphus walking quickly toward her. He smiled shyly and wrung his hands in front of him, and Bellatrix pulled off to a wood paneled wall as she said,

"Sounds like you're doing well at the Ministry, Rodolphus."

"I'm doing my best," he nodded. "And you? How are you doing?"

"My best," Bellatrix smirked. Then, knowing she was being rude, she tucked her hair behind her ear and amended, "I've been busy. We all have. But I adore this life. Don't you?"

"I do." Rodolphus dragged his fingers through his dark hair and cleared his throat, looking very nervous all of a sudden. "Bellatrix, I… I've been trying to gather the courage for some time to ask you, but… would you perhaps consider joining me for dinner sometime? I would like to host you for an evening at Castle Lestrange."

"Dinner?" Bellatrix felt her eyebrows fly up, and Rodolphus looked humiliated. He waved his hand and stammered,

"N-no. It's… it's a stupid suggestion, I know. I shouldn't have asked. Sorry."

"Dinner," Bellatrix said again. What harm was there in dinner, she wondered? After all, Voldemort had told her to come here separately from him because they weren't 'together,' and it was important that nobody think they were 'together.' She lived with him, but he didn't love her. He knew she loved him, and he hadn't said it back. That meant something, Bellatrix supposed. She wasn't his girlfriend. She would never be his wife. Whatever she meant to him, it wasn't real. It wasn't formal. Dinner was just dinner, and it would be awful to turn down the boy who had broken up her assault.

"Dinner would be nice," Bellatrix said, and Rodolphus' face suddenly broke out into an enormous grin. His chest heaved with excitement as he asked,

"Tomorrow? Are you available tomorrow?"

"She is not," said a stern voice from behind Rodolphus. The younger wizard whirled round to see his master with his arms crossed, a glare written into his features. Bellatrix's stomach churned all of a sudden, for she'd never seen his face quite like this. Voldemort turned his angry black eyes to Bellatrix and barked,

"You've forgotten about your work, have you? Lestrange, Miss Black is not available tomorrow or any night in the near future."

"Oh. Of course. I understand and I apologise, Master… Bellatrix, please let me know if you ever do have a spare evening. I should very much like to dine with you." Rodolphus gave his trademark smile, shy and crooked, and Bellatrix felt awful. She just nodded, watching as Rodolphus bowed low to his master. He turned to go, and Bellatrix was left alone in the corridor with Voldemort. Once everyone had gone, Voldemort seized Bellatrix's wrist and started to drag her toward the stairs.

"Ow," Bellatrix said on instinct, because he was squeezing her tightly enough that it hurt. He let up his pressure just a little, but as they marched out the front doors of the manor, Bellatrix hissed, "My Lord, someone will see us walking like this and -"

"Good. We've seen what happens when there is confusion. He was confused, you were confused. No more confusion. You're mine." Voldemort's voice was icy and hard, and as they passed the Apparition Point, he took Bellatrix's shoulders and said down to her again,

"You are mine."

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix whispered. Voldemort's throat bobbed, and he Disapparated. Bellatrix was dizzy with the force of their movement, and when they landed in Cornwall, she was thrown down to her knees. It was drizzling, and her skirts got wet at once. Voldemort hauled her up by her elbow, and Bellatrix shivered from cold and fear as she stared up at him.

"I'm sorry, Master," she said quietly. "I was just trying not to be ungrateful to him. I feel nothing for him. I feel everything for you."

"How could you?" He sounded abruptly wounded then, like a beast who had taken an arrow. He shook his head, his eyes shining strangely. "He asked you for dinner in his home and you said yes. You said yes, Bellatrix; how could you not comprehend that you're already… that you and I are…"

"My Lord, I was just trying to be polite," Bellatrix said once more, and Voldemort scoffed. His hair started to get plastered down by the soft rain, and he dragged it away from his eyes as he told her firmly, "Witches who are already taken are not privy to private dinners with other wizards."

"Taken?" Bellatrix glanced up to the house, realising how foolish she'd been. Of course she was taken. They were physical all the time. Thy spent most of their time together. They lived together. How could she have thought she was available at all to Rodolphus Lestrange? Bellatrix turned her eyes back to her master, feeling tears boil up as the guilt wracked her. She shook her head and whispered for the third time, "I'm sorry."

"Don't you know?" He sounded incredulous, and he seized Bellatrix's face in his hands as he snarled in a low voice, "Can't you tell that I'm in love with you?"

She couldn't answer then, too breathless from shock. He kissed her hard, and Bellatrix reached to ball her hands around sodden robes as she kissed him back.

Yes, she thought. She was taken.

* * *

"Travers. Come in."

Lord Voldemort looked up from his desk to the office door where Travers and his son Silas stood anxiously. Voldemort had Summoned them both here with a strongly worded owl, and now he shut the door behind them and said sharply,

"Sit."

Travers cleared his throat and sat, and lanky Silas Travers looked as though he was going to throw up.

"M-My Lord," the boy said, "What an honour it is to -"

"Be silent," Voldemort said smoothly. Then he turned to the elder Travers and announced, "Your son has committed an egregious offence. I have seen the memory with my own eyes. There was a witch upon whom he laid his hands, even when she told him no."

"Bellatrix, you mean," Silas whispered, and Voldemort glared at him.

"I told you to be silent."

Silas lowered his head, and Voldemort pushed into his mind with nonverbal Legilimency. He sifted through the boy's memories until he found the night Bellatrix had been assaulted. He watched through Silas' eyes, saw the way he thought Bellatrix was beautiful and soft, the way he wanted so badly to push her knickers aside and fuck her right there in front of everyone.

Voldemort pulled out of the boy's head and said quietly,

"Your sin is unforgivable. That your father is in my service is the only factor saving your life. I am being merciful with you now, granting you the ability to keep on breathing despite your hideous deeds. Do you understand me, boy?"

"Yes, My Lord," Silas muttered, staring at his lap. "I understand."

"Get up," Voldemort barked then. He stood, and when Silas hesitated, Voldemort used his bare hand to yank him out of the chair and toss him against the wall. Silas Travers landed like a rag doll on the office floor, coughing and gripping his side as he rose. The elder Travers looked immensely concerned but stayed seated, his hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly.

Voldemort wandlessly sent Silas Travers' trousers down to his ankles, buttons flying off as the Dark Lord ripped magically at the garment. Silas looked shocked by the way his genitals had been revealed, but Voldemort just tipped his head.

"You won't crave witches anymore," he said. "You won't be able to hurt them, not in the way you wanted to hurt Bellatrix Black."

"I swear, My Lord, I didn't want to hurt her," Silas whimpered. "I was drunk; I just wanted -"

"This is your last warning before I silence you permanently," Voldemort hissed. From his chair, the boy's father looked on the verge of tears, and Voldemort said in a conciliatory tone, "Travers, you may want to look away for this bit.  _Diffindo. Cautero. Tergeo. Evanesco."_

He cast the spells in quick succession, and a rather hideous series of events took place. First, Silas Travers' testicles were severed off his body and dropped to the ground. There was bleeding at once, so Voldemort cauterised the wound. He siphoned up the blood and Vanished the testicles.

Silas Travers fell to his knees and shrieked. His father dashed over, holding his son's shoulder and murmuring that the pain wouldn't last, that he'd earned his punishment and needed to take it like a man.

"Yes, Silas," Voldemort said softly. "Take this punishment like the wizard you are. Go forth in life knowing that your own actions mutilated you, and that you were kept alive by the mercy of the Dark Lord. Get out of my office, the both of you. Now. Go."

Travers helped his son stand and yanked up his trousers, and as the two of them staggered from the office, Travers said over his son's agonised moaning,

"You are merciful not to kill him, Master. For that I thank you."

"Go," Voldemort said again. Travers shut the door behind him, but Voldemort could still hear Silas whimpering like a child in the corridor of Malfoy Manor. Rookwood was meeting with a few Ministry employees, Voldemort knew. He hoped they could all hear Silas Travers' pathetic crying. He'd announce it at the next meeting, that the boy had been cut apart for what he'd done.

For now he sat at his desk for a few minutes, waiting until the rain outside let up a little. Then he opened the office window and jumped out, taking flight at once and wandlessly shutting the window behind him as he soared away. He flew through the gardens and to the Apparition Point, and once he was there, he whirled hard to his right.

Back home in Cornwall, he found Bellatrix in the library, doing some reading about magical tracking. Good girl, he thought, just like always. She shut her book when he walked into the library, and she frowned deeply as she stood.

"Is something wrong, My Lord?" She knitted her hands before her and shifted on her feet. Things had been uneasy between them ever since he'd told her he loved her. He'd meant it, of course, but it had opened a can of worms that had not yet been discussed. Now he tucked his wand away and told Bellatrix,

"I have punished Silas Travers."

Bellatrix looked very surprised for a moment, and her eyes welled heavily. She nodded.

"Is he alive?"

"He is," Voldemort answered, "but he's short two testicles."

Now Bellatrix's eyes went round as saucers, and she breathed,

"You castrated him, My Lord?"

"Yes." Voldemort stepped into the room and watched as Bellatrix buried her face in her hands. Her back started to shake, then to heave, and he realised she was crying. He couldn't figure why; did she pity the boy?

"Thank you," she whispered finally, raising her eyes to him and nodding. "You… you took away that which made him dangerous and I… I'm very grateful. Thank you, Master."

"It was, quite literally, the least I could do," Voldemort shrugged. "If I could have tortured or killed him without losing followers, I'd have done it."

"I think you tortured him just fine," Bellatrix smiled, tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks. Voldemort brushed the tears away with his thumbs and felt compelled to inform her,

"I do love you, you know. It is true. I've thought long and hard about it, and I do love you."

"Master…" Bellatrix lowered her eyes, but he tipped her chin up and kissed her lips carefully. The kiss naturally deepened, and suddenly Voldemort found himself sinking into one of the leather chairs with Bellatrix following him.

"Have you taken the next dose of contraceptive potion?" He knew that wasn't a romantic question just now, but Bellatrix nodded vehemently and promised him,

"Two days ago, My Lord."

She was telling the truth, which pleased him, because he wanted her. He pulled her by her waist down onto the chair with him and pushed her skirts up. He reached to shove her knickers aside - just like Silas Travers had fantasised about doing to her - and she moaned softly in response. She leaned forward and kissed at his neck, her tongue lathing his skin and her teeth nibbling carefully. Voldemort twisted to fingers into her and played with her nub using his thumb. Bellatrix's hands flew between them and unbuttoned his trousers, pulling him out and starting to stroke.

He went completely hard within moments, grunting a little when Bellatrix suckled hard on his neck. She might leave marks, he thought distantly, and the idea made him twitch in her hand. He quickened his own fingers and kept up the pressure on her nub, and soon enough Bellatrix was tensing and pushing her hips down insistently.

"Are you going to come for me?" He was breathless now, and he felt a little lightheaded when Bellatrix nodded on his neck.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, My Lord, I am."

"Go ahead, Bella," he said, kissing at her cheek and urging her to bring her mouth to his. She kissed him through it, her walls clamping and snapping around his fingers. Then he couldn't wait any more, and he moved her as he lined up his cock. He pulled her down hard, and she started to rock at once.

He wasn't going to last like this, and he found himself groping her breasts through her black jumper and whispering her name. She was moving smoothly, and pressure was building up steadily inside his veins.

"Bellatrix," he mumbled, feeling like his voice was coming from somewhere else, "I do… love you."

"I believe you, Master," she panted back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and putting her lips beside his ear, "I love you more than life itself, My Lord."

That sent him over the edge, and he growled a little as his seed leaped up into her body. Bellatrix hummed her satisfaction beside his ear, kissing the skin there and whispering softly about adoring him.

He could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up with her in the chair in the library. But he needed to get back to Malfoy Manor, to poke his head into the meeting Rookwood was holding, and he told Bellatrix regretfully,

"I have to go."

She climbed off of him, which was messy and not at all what Voldemort wanted. But she was still very pretty where she stood, and he impulsively said to her,

"Come back to Malfoy Manor with me."

Bellatrix smiled a little and nodded. "Yes, Master."


	9. Chapter 9

Voldemort stared down from the decking to the churning sea below, watching the sun sink low on the horizon. He frowned; Bellatrix had been gone for an awfully long time now. She'd gone to the White Wyvern in Knockturn Alley to have a drink or two with her father, whom she hadn't seen in some time, but she'd been gone for so long that Voldemort was beginning to worry. Bellatrix and her father weren't close, or at least not close enough to warrant a four-hour visit in a pub.

He called Bellatrix through her Dark Mark, but she didn't come. After ten minutes of standing on the decking, Voldemort went inside and made himself dinner before scrubbing up in the shower. By the time it was black outside and a total of seven hours had passed, he'd had enough waiting. He dressed and held his wand carefully in his hand, and he Disapparated to a dark corner of Knockturn Alley.

He worked quickly to Transfigure his features. He made his face rounder and gave himself a greying beard. He made his nose crooked, as it it had been broken, and he changed his hairstyle and cheekbones and jawline. He Conjured a mirror and studied his reflection, confident that he wouldn't be recognised. Then he walked up the stairs beside the tattoo parlour and into the White Wyvern.

It was quiet inside, and Voldemort saw no trace of either Bellatrix or her father. He pulled himself into a booth and waited for the busty young serving girl to come by. She looked bored as she asked,

"What can I get you?"

"Information," Voldemort said smoothly, sliding three Galleons across the table. "I'm looking for a young witch with wild black curls. She was here with her father."

"Bellatrix Black, you mean." The serving girl blew a bubble of Drooble's and chomped on the gum. She nodded, picking the Galleons up from the table. "Cygnus Black left first, and then the girl stayed and seemed to be reading the newspaper for a while. Then two wizards came up and sat with her at her table. She looked dazed, a little confused. They all Disapparated without paying the bill."

Voldemort pulled a few more Galleons from his pocket and handed them over, his stomach churning and his throat going dry.

"Who took her?"

"I didn't recognise them. Just like I don't recognise you, and I'm pretty good at knowing people." The witch tipped her head and blew another bubble in her gum. "Maybe they disguised themselves. People do that, you know?"

"Yes. Thank you. If you see her again, tell her to go home."

"Home. Sure. You want anything to eat or drink?" The girl raised an eyebrow, but Voldemort slid out from the bench and shook his head. He stepped away quickly, Disapparating mid-stride and going back to Cornwall.

She was missing. Someone had taken her. Voldemort dashed into the house and ran through the corridor, glancing at Veles in his downstairs cage. He would need to send an owl at once to Malfoy, informing him that Bellatrix Black was missing and to get all hands on finding her. He started to make his way into the library, feeling genuinely ill as the thought of Bellatrix in someone else's captivity wormed its way through his consciousness. He snatched some parchment and a quill, his fingers shaking terribly as he put ink to paper.

 _Malfoy_ , he wrote,  _Bellatrix Black has gone missing. It is imperative that we -_

He paused then, for Veles was screeching from the corridor. Voldemort stepped outside and heard a rapping on the front door. He held his wand carefully and opened the door, and an owl dropped a scroll on the ground before flying away. Voldemort looked about, but there was no one except for the owl that was now soaring off into the distance. Voldemort bent to pick up the scroll, breaking its plain red seal and unfurling it. He recognised Albus Dumbledore's handwriting at once.

 _Tom_ , it began, which was infuriating in its own right.  _You may rest assured that Miss Black is in very good hands here in our custody. I hope you do not take offence to my use of Legilimency with her; I know you would have done the same or worse. It is obvious you care deeply for the young woman, and I know you despise the notion of anything happening to her. I can promise you, Tom, that she will be released safely if you can make one simple promise to me. Promise that you will abandon your ambitions to overthrow the Ministry and that all attacks on innocents will cease. With this promise, Miss Black will be free and safe once more. It is good, Tom, to see how deeply you love her. Show her that affection now by writing to me with a signed promise to surrender your wicked deeds to history. Veles will find me. - A. Dumbledore_

Voldemort crumpled the letter in his hands and stepped inside his house. He shut the door behind him and leaned back. He couldn't - wouldn't - promise anybody that he would stop his movement. That wasn't possible. But he couldn't leave Bellatrix to rot or get injured, either.

If Albus Dumbledore could use Legilimency, he reckoned, so could Lord Voldemort.

He shut his eyes and thought very hard about Bellatrix. He tried to find her, to seek her out in the ether. He could feel minds in the distance, and he was so tired all of a sudden that he almost collapsed. Then, suddenly he could sense her. She was somewhere far away, and Voldemort heard himself whisper,

"Where are you, Bella? Tell me where you are… show me."

Ottery St. Catchpole. The home of Carina Shacklebolt.

That thought came into his mind very clearly, though he wasn't sure if Bellatrix had thought it or if it was simply his mind using the extraordinary strength of his Legilimency to place her. He wrenched his eyes shut more tightly and Disapparated, coming to outside Malfoy Manor. Immediately, he pressed the tip of his wand to his Dark Mark and summoned a group.

Abraxas Malfoy, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Dolohov, Avery, Nott, Macnair, Mulciber, Yaxley, and Rookwood. He called them all to the gardens outside Malfoy Manor, where the autumn wind blew hard against Voldemort's robes.

One by one they appeared, and Malfoy waited until they had all assembled in a circle. He stood in the middle and stared around, and he said sharply,

"Bellatrix Black is being held captive by Dumbledore's goons. She is in Ottery St. Catchpole at the home of Carina Shacklebolt. We are going there immediately to retrieve her. Do not hesitate to kill. Get her back here to the manor. We all leave now. Let's go."

* * *

Wherever she was, it smelled of soup.

Bellatrix stared at the ceiling and blinked slowly. They'd sedated her. Whether with a potion or a spell, she didn't know. She couldn't remember. All she could remember now was sitting in the White Wyvern and two wizards coming up to her. They must have Imperiused her, she reckoned, because after that she lost control of herself entirely.

She'd heard someone mention that this was the home of Carina Shacklebolt, an ally of Dumbledore's whom Bellatrix knew to live in Ottery St. Catchpole near other wizarding homes. An hour ago, she'd heard Albus Dumbledore talking with Carina's nephew Kingsley Shacklebolt. There was someone else here, a wizard whose voice she didn't recognise. But that seemed to be it - Carina and Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dumbledore, and the wizard whose voice she couldn't place.

Bellatrix lay in the little cot where they'd placed her, feeling like she weighed a tonne. She couldn't move her arms and legs. Surely they'd taken her wand. She tried to sigh, but just getting breath was impossible.

_I'm coming, Bellatrix._

She frowned, or tried to frown, at the feeling of his voice inside her mind. How was Lord Voldemort speaking to her through the ether? Or was he close by? How was he sending his voice into her mind at all? Or was it just the feel of him?

"Albus!" A frantic voice sounded breathlessly from the window. "They're here."

Who, Bellatrix wondered? Who was here?

"Let's go outside," said Albus Dumbledore. "No need to destroy your lovely house, Carina."

"There are too many of them!" The wizard that Bellatrix hadn't recognised sounded frightened as he dashed toward the door.

"Come on, Mundungus," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Now is no time to be a coward."

"Are you calling me a coward?" Mundungus seemed offended, but Albus Dumbledore rather barked,

"Outside, all of us. Now, if you please."

" _Stupefy!"_

Bellatrix watched blue light flash over her head, and then there was a whirlwind of light. Green and red and blue light moved like lightning through the room. Bellatrix heard the distinct sound of her master's voice then as he shouted,

"Accio Wand of Bellatrix Black!"

She wanted to thank him for retrieving her wand, but she still couldn't move. The battling continued, and then suddenly she could see Rodolphus Lestrange's face above her.

"Come on, Bella," he said gently. "We're going to the manor."

He scooped her up in her arms and Disapparated, and when they came to, they were outside the gardens of Malfoy Manor. Rodolphus set Bellatrix on the grass carefully and murmured,

" _Finite Incantatem."_

Nothing happened; she still couldn't move or speak. She stared desperately at Rodolphus, who murmured,

"You need Wideye Potion, I think. Let's get you inside and to the guest suite."

He bent to pick her up and carried her all the way into the house. Bellatrix wanted to tell him that he could have just Levitated her, and she wondered distantly if he'd lightened her weight with nonverbal magic. He didn't seem stressed or burdened by carrying her, and he moved smoothly up the steps in the manor's foyer.

"Abraxas said to bring you to this suite down here if needed," Rodolphus muttered, a bit breathlessly. He pushed a door open with his foot and took her inside, placing her down gently on the bed inside. He adjusted the pillow beneath her head, and he asked carefully,

"Can you speak at all, Bella?"

She tried to answer him, to shake her head, but she just stared. He was handsome, she thought suddenly, but she could never love him. He wasn't her master. Her eyes burned suddenly, and Rodolphus squeezed at her shoulder.

"Let me go to the Potions Stores," he said. "I think you've taken a Comatose Cocktail. I've got to fetch some Wideye Potion. I'll be right back."

He left then, and Bellatrix was staring at the ceiling for the second time today. It was dark outside, she could tell, but a lit lantern sent shadows dancing across the plaster ceiling. There was silence for a while except for the ticking clock on the mantle across the room, and then suddenly Bellatrix heard footsteps coming.

"Just me," said Rodolphus. He sat beside Bellatrix in a chair and opened the stopper on a brown glass bottle of Wideye Potion. He carefully spooned it into Bellatrix's mouth, and it tasted wretched. Bellatrix tried to swallow, and she felt Rodolphus massaging her neck to make her do it.

"They'll all be back," he told her quietly. "I've faith in that."

Bellatrix didn't care about the others; she only cared about Lord Voldemort. But she just stared at Rodolphus, trying and failing to thank him for his help.

"BELLATRIX!"

It was Voldemort, his voice ringing through the stone halls of Malfoy Manor. Rodolphus stood quickly from his chair and folded his hands before him as he called,

"Up in the guest suite, My Lord."

"Yaxley, get Travers some Dittany. Malfoy, do the same for Nott. Everyone else all right? Good. Go home, all of you, as quickly as you can."

He was getting closer, Bellatrix could hear. His voice sounded shaky, and his steps were quick in the hall outside. When he appeared in the doorway, he nodded at Rodolphus and said breathlessly,

"Thank you, Lestrange."

"I dosed her with Wideye Potion, My Lord," Rodolphus said, and Voldemort nodded again.

"Very good. Dismissed."

"Th-thank you," Bellatrix whispered, her lips finally working a little. Rodolphus turned back and looked rather emotional as he insisted to Bellatrix,

"It was nothing, truly. Be well, Bella. My Lord."

He left then, and Voldemort shut the door behind him. He sat in the chair where Rodolphus had been and laced his fingers through Bellatrix's.

"I was very worried over you," he said simply.

"The… the battle?" Her voice was sore and hoarse, for it was a monumental effort to get any sound at all. Voldemort shrugged.

"Travers and Nott took a few stray hexes. Mulciber was almost killed; dodged a Killing Curse by a hair. I tried to kill Dumbledore, but he Disapparated just before."

"Coward," Bellatrix whispered, and Voldemort smirked.

"Yes. He is a coward. We killed Carina Shacklebolt. Burnt her house to the ground. So there's that."

"Good." Bellatrix gave a minute little nod and murmured, "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what? You were kidnapped. Show me. Legilimens."

He rifled through her hazy memories of sitting alone in the White Wyvern, of the two wizards appearing, of green haze coming over her and them all Disapparating. He pulled out of her mind and said,

"There was nothing you could do. We're staying the night here; I won't Apparate with you just now. Not until I'm certain you're healed."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix could move better now, and she sat up a little as she met Voldemort's eyes. He stared right at her for a long moment, then glanced back toward the door.

"He really is in love with you. But, then, so am I."

"I'm only in love with one of you," Bellatrix said quietly, "and it isn't him, Master."

Voldemort nodded and patted Bellatrix's hand.

"It's late," he said. "Let me Transfigure your clothes into a nightgown and you can sleep."

"I'm so sick of lying down," she complained. "I would dance if I could."

"Dance." Voldemort scoffed quietly and then eyed the Wizarding Wireless on the mantle. He flicked his wand at it, and then at the door, which locked with a click. Soft music started playing on the Wireless, and Voldemort said,

"Let's get those legs of yours working again, shall we?"

"My Lord…" Bellatrix smiled, letting him help her off the bed as the Wideye Potion settled fully into her veins. She was all right now; she could move and speak now. But as he drew her to the centre of the Turkish rug, she felt more breathless and was rendered more silent than ever.

He put his right hand to the small of her back and threaded their fingers together with his other hand. He touched his forehead to hers and started to rock, and he told her,

"My biggest fear was that you'd be killed. A stray curse. Unexpected cruelty from Dumbledore or an ally. I thought I'd lose you. And, do you know, that's precisely why they took you."

Bellatrix nodded. "Dumbledore looked in my head. I remember that much. He saw that I love you. He saw that you… he saw the way you feel about me. And he said to Carina Shacklebolt that if having me in jeopardy didn't persuade you, nothing ever would. It was worth a try, he said."

"He was wrong," Voldemort said firmly, still moving in a subtle dance step. Bellatrix nodded.

"He was wrong, My Lord. I know nothing would ever stop you. I know you'd never risk your movement for me."

He hesitated a moment, but then chewed his lip and pondered,

"I don't know if that's true. I brought nearly a dozen of my soldiers storming to your rescue. Nearly lost Mulciber. Wounded two others. Perhaps he wasn't so wrong. I'm afraid… Bella, I'm afraid of what I would risk for you."

Bellatrix felt a little sick then. She rested her head against his chest and murmured,

"No more visits to Knockturn Alley. I shall go where you bid me, move in the shadows. We mustn't give them the opportunity to drag you into a trap. And if they ever catch me again, I'll aim a Killing Curse at myself before they can -"

"Stop." Voldemort shook his head firmly, his feet pausing and his hands tightening on her. "I'll hear none of that, Miss Black."

Bellatrix sighed, reaching up to cup his jaws in her hands and pulling him down to kiss her. Then she mumbled against his lips,

"As you command, Master."


End file.
